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?”
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.
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
Léon
Blade Runner
The Shawshank Redemption
Raiders of the Lost Ark
Aliens
And in a tie for eleventh:
Terminator 2, Rushmore and Life Aquatic
Big Fish
The Matrix
The Royal Tennenbaums
Princess Bride
Say Anything
Léon
Blade Runner
The Shawshank Redemption
Raiders of the Lost Ark
Aliens
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.
*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.
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.
As part of my regimen when starting a new job, I removed the INSERT key from the keyboard.
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 holyjuan@gmail.com.
If you have a question for Ask HolyJuan, you can send it to that same address.
Please let me tell your story. If you've got one, please e-mail me at holyjuan@gmail.com.
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.)
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.
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.
My Wife Magazined Me
Miss Sally gave Greg his bath last night as I finished painting the living room. (It was an awful red that only looked good in photos.) Usually I give Greg his bath and afterwards we watch 15 minutes of cartoons as he dries off. We then revert back to the normal bedtime routine. The good thing about “routines” is that they create expectations and get a child to sleep with limited wrangling. The bad thing about routines is if you stray from them, the schedully unrestrained child will most likely tumble out of control.
Miss Sally was not aware of Greg’s bath night routine of cartoon watching and she ended up wrangling him for an additional thirty minutes after the twenty minutes of arguing and figuring out where the train left the track.
Later on in the kitchen, Sally suggested that we need to get Greg on a standardized routine or share with each other what the routines are. I agreed. She also then mentioned that it would be nice if we could get out of the house and go on a date. I thought these were both great suggestions and I realized that we just had a conversation that was suitable for Dr. Phil. Wow. Communication. Sharing. What a great marriage!!
The next morning, still glowing from our conversation the night before, I gave Ann her bottle and was making ACTUAL PANCAKES ON THE STOVE . It was during this time that I flipped aimlessly through Real Simple Family magazine that had been sitting on the counter. My eyes glanced over an article about “Sticky Situations” with bottle of glue icons to rate the level of stickiness.
That’s when I saw this one:
Coincidence? I think NOT! I'd been magazined. My wife had read something in a magazine and tried to covertly implement it into our life.
I circled it with pink highlighter and left it open on the counter. Miss Sally came down a few minutes later and I said, “Look what we have here…” and pointed to the magazine.
She read the quip and shrugged slightly. I accused, “This is almost word for word what you said last night. And this article suggests I lie on the couch all the time.”
She denied it. Yes, she had read that article, but in no way shape or form was she attempting to article verbatim our relationship. And she was not accusing me of laziness as I am always putting Greg to bed. The routine suggestion was just that and the date night comment was just that as well.
Still… I’m sure it was possibly a subconscious train of thought to go from Greg’s routine to date night. Miss Sally would never magazine me.
I wish the article would have been from Cosmopolitan magazine and been titled “Ten Sex Cravings All Guys Have” with boobs for rating icons. Maybe I should get the highlighter out.
Miss Sally was not aware of Greg’s bath night routine of cartoon watching and she ended up wrangling him for an additional thirty minutes after the twenty minutes of arguing and figuring out where the train left the track.
Later on in the kitchen, Sally suggested that we need to get Greg on a standardized routine or share with each other what the routines are. I agreed. She also then mentioned that it would be nice if we could get out of the house and go on a date. I thought these were both great suggestions and I realized that we just had a conversation that was suitable for Dr. Phil. Wow. Communication. Sharing. What a great marriage!!
The next morning, still glowing from our conversation the night before, I gave Ann her bottle and was making ACTUAL PANCAKES ON THE STOVE . It was during this time that I flipped aimlessly through Real Simple Family magazine that had been sitting on the counter. My eyes glanced over an article about “Sticky Situations” with bottle of glue icons to rate the level of stickiness.
That’s when I saw this one:
Coincidence? I think NOT! I'd been magazined. My wife had read something in a magazine and tried to covertly implement it into our life.
I circled it with pink highlighter and left it open on the counter. Miss Sally came down a few minutes later and I said, “Look what we have here…” and pointed to the magazine.
She read the quip and shrugged slightly. I accused, “This is almost word for word what you said last night. And this article suggests I lie on the couch all the time.”
She denied it. Yes, she had read that article, but in no way shape or form was she attempting to article verbatim our relationship. And she was not accusing me of laziness as I am always putting Greg to bed. The routine suggestion was just that and the date night comment was just that as well.
Still… I’m sure it was possibly a subconscious train of thought to go from Greg’s routine to date night. Miss Sally would never magazine me.
I wish the article would have been from Cosmopolitan magazine and been titled “Ten Sex Cravings All Guys Have” with boobs for rating icons. Maybe I should get the highlighter out.
Weapons of Mass Destruction FOUND!
Chris, the ever astute Neo-conservative has been searching for the Weapons of Mass Destruction for the past four years non-stop.
Who knew this whole time they right under his nose.
He sent me this photographic proof
Good job, Freedom Fighter!!
Who knew this whole time they right under his nose.
He sent me this photographic proof
Good job, Freedom Fighter!!
3.jpg){kind=spacer}
Why average girls don't get laid
{Author's note: I have been besieged with e-mails asking me about this cartoon. Many do not get it because either I am too smart or I am an idiot. I'm sure many of you know which is correct. I drew this after reading an article about averages and how people can get them confused with medians. Basically what I am trying to say is that the "average" girl might turn out to be 0.5. And who wants to hook up with 50% of a girl?}
Job (Part 17)
Got a job.
I think this one will stick. No dead bodies.
Well, one.
And the seven dead fetuses.
And the box of ashes.
But I think that's it.
I think this one will stick. No dead bodies.
Well, one.
And the seven dead fetuses.
And the box of ashes.
But I think that's it.
A letter to myself 20 years ago
We all have made decisions that we regret. Sometimes we wish we could go back and change everything. I’ve tried sending a message to my future self with mixed results. I think my next option is to send a letter to myself twenty years ago. The way you do that is write a letter, address it to yourself and then hope someday scientists figure out a way to send mail back in time. The cost should be low because postage was cheaper back then.
My letter to me twenty years ago would go a little like this:
Dear Doug,
Hi. This is you writing to yourself twenty years in the future. I’ve come to tell you about… How do you know it’s really you? Well, I’m the only one that knows that you once were masturbating in the laundry room and when mom came down stairs you had to hide silently in the corner for ten minutes with your pants down while she finished switching loads. Good enough?
So, I’ve come to tell you about… yes, you still have hair. Thinning, but it is still there. And you get fat. I’m waiting for the letter from my future me suggesting I start losing weight.
So allow me to say… no, disco is still dead. And don’t buy more than 4 flannel shirts in the next 3 or 4 years. You think you will need more, but they will look better the grungier they get.
Here’s the deal. In the future, you are going to make several mistakes. Some of them embarrassing. Some of them life changing. You are going to miss out on some wonderful opportunities and kick yourself for not choosing the other path. You are going to see some horrific things and your heart is going to be broken by beautiful women and people you should not have trusted.
The one most important thing you should know is this: don’t change a thing.
Everything you have done has led you to where I am now. At the time, you made decisions based on what you knew and they may not have been the best choices, but they were your choices. We both know that we do not believe in fate, but I do not what to screw up where I am now based on making you re-think or doubt your decisions.
I guess what I am saying is that you need to believe in yourself. I do.
Take care buddy.
Love,
Doug
P.S. Buy Google stock at $85
P.S.S. In 1994 you have the choice of going home with a girl named Trobes or a girl named Sally. DO NOT SCREW THAT ONE UP.
P.S.S.S. Vote for Gore in 2000. I know it might seem stupid now, but just do it.
P.S.S.S.S. Parachute pants make a HUGE comeback in 2002. Buy at least 10 – 15 pair.
My letter to me twenty years ago would go a little like this:
Dear Doug,
Hi. This is you writing to yourself twenty years in the future. I’ve come to tell you about… How do you know it’s really you? Well, I’m the only one that knows that you once were masturbating in the laundry room and when mom came down stairs you had to hide silently in the corner for ten minutes with your pants down while she finished switching loads. Good enough?
So, I’ve come to tell you about… yes, you still have hair. Thinning, but it is still there. And you get fat. I’m waiting for the letter from my future me suggesting I start losing weight.
So allow me to say… no, disco is still dead. And don’t buy more than 4 flannel shirts in the next 3 or 4 years. You think you will need more, but they will look better the grungier they get.
Here’s the deal. In the future, you are going to make several mistakes. Some of them embarrassing. Some of them life changing. You are going to miss out on some wonderful opportunities and kick yourself for not choosing the other path. You are going to see some horrific things and your heart is going to be broken by beautiful women and people you should not have trusted.
The one most important thing you should know is this: don’t change a thing.
Everything you have done has led you to where I am now. At the time, you made decisions based on what you knew and they may not have been the best choices, but they were your choices. We both know that we do not believe in fate, but I do not what to screw up where I am now based on making you re-think or doubt your decisions.
I guess what I am saying is that you need to believe in yourself. I do.
Take care buddy.
Love,
Doug
P.S. Buy Google stock at $85
P.S.S. In 1994 you have the choice of going home with a girl named Trobes or a girl named Sally. DO NOT SCREW THAT ONE UP.
P.S.S.S. Vote for Gore in 2000. I know it might seem stupid now, but just do it.
P.S.S.S.S. Parachute pants make a HUGE comeback in 2002. Buy at least 10 – 15 pair.
Come back in twenty years and read this
Warning! This is neither exciting nor funny right now. Please wait until 2027 to come back and read this. Thank you.
Oh my God! 7 Terabytes for $12,399! Were they living in caves back then? And what company was Apple??
Oh my God! 7 Terabytes for $12,399! Were they living in caves back then? And what company was Apple??
Please say it ain't so
I was doing a Google search (don't ask for what) when I came across the picture above. I thought it was a pretty funny Hello-Kitty-pink photoshop job so I did a search for the title of the comic book just to make sure it was fake.
It's not.
Here's the publisher's summary from Wookiepedia.
She's a Princess with a fiery spirit and a hot temper to match. He's a scoundrel with a mercenary's sensibility and the heart of a hero. Together they help topple an Empire and restore order to the galaxy…And if they stop fighting long enough, they just might realize that they're in love! Set during the days leading up to The Empire Strikes Back, Han Solo and Princess Leia find themselves trapped together on a downed starship, lost in the frozen wastelands of Hoth as a storm rages around them. And while the snow flies outside the ship, the sparks fly inside. No matter how hard they fight it, there's more going on between them than just friendship!
I can only hope that the last frame of the comic is "Han shot first."
Adam Huges shows off Bond's 755 homer ball
Adam Hughes, 33, of San Diego talks about catching San Francisco Giants Barry Bonds 755th home run ball against the San Diego Padres after their Major League Baseball in San Diego, Saturday, Aug. 4, 2007. With the hit, Bonds caught Hank Aaron and tied the career home run record. (AP Photo/Lenny Ignelzi)
99% Safe or is it 1% Unsafe?
A recent article from MSNBC has China’s Bo Xilai, commerce minister, quoted as saying that "over 99 per cent of China's export products are good and safe".
Yea!
Unless you look at it as 1% of their exports are unsafe.
China exported about $974 billion worth of goods and materials in 2006. The United States receives about 21.4% of those exports. If 1% of those exports are unsafe, that means that $2.06 billion dollars worth of imports are for shit. Even if, as he said, more than 99% are safe, you are still talking around $1 billion dollars worth of unsafe crap.
I’m in the process now of sending my kid’s Thomas the Train cars back to the manufacturer.
Note the chew marks on the caboose.
When I worked at a retail installation company, we dealt with a lot of imports from China. It seemed like the quality was decent, but there were always little problems such as poor welds or holes that weren’t drilled out completely. I, like anyone else with 4th grade math skills, understand the business mentality of savings. A big retailer was planning a rollout of 1,000+ stores. Slightly better quality wire shelving in the States was only $12.50 higher per unit. There were sixty units to be installed per store so by going with China, they saved $750,000. Which route would you go? Now, if you find yourself buried under a poorly fabricated shelving unit, you might think differently. All I had to do was listen to the installers bitching all day about “Chinese crap.”
I think what Bo Xilai should have said was that 100% of all exports are safe and then back it up by saying that in China they round up to the closest 100.
Yea!
Unless you look at it as 1% of their exports are unsafe.
China exported about $974 billion worth of goods and materials in 2006. The United States receives about 21.4% of those exports. If 1% of those exports are unsafe, that means that $2.06 billion dollars worth of imports are for shit. Even if, as he said, more than 99% are safe, you are still talking around $1 billion dollars worth of unsafe crap.
I’m in the process now of sending my kid’s Thomas the Train cars back to the manufacturer.
Note the chew marks on the caboose.
When I worked at a retail installation company, we dealt with a lot of imports from China. It seemed like the quality was decent, but there were always little problems such as poor welds or holes that weren’t drilled out completely. I, like anyone else with 4th grade math skills, understand the business mentality of savings. A big retailer was planning a rollout of 1,000+ stores. Slightly better quality wire shelving in the States was only $12.50 higher per unit. There were sixty units to be installed per store so by going with China, they saved $750,000. Which route would you go? Now, if you find yourself buried under a poorly fabricated shelving unit, you might think differently. All I had to do was listen to the installers bitching all day about “Chinese crap.”
I think what Bo Xilai should have said was that 100% of all exports are safe and then back it up by saying that in China they round up to the closest 100.
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Not Everything Dad Said was True
My father is a smart guy. He’s an engineer and chock full stories that I always took as the gospel truth. While I look back fondly on those endless conversations, it turns out that some of the stories that I took as if from the mouth of God, were wrong. Let’s see what dad said and how it stacks up to the facts.
Here’s what Dad said:
Out of every five miles of interstate, there will be at least one mile that is straight so that planes can land during war time.
Answer: false
Dad said that Eisenhower, being a war guy, had the foresight to see the need for planes landing in out of the way places or in an emergency. Sadly, this is just an urban legend .
The military got fiber optic technology off the ground
Answer: not really
Dad said nuclear bombs create Electro Magnetic Pulses which knock out electronic circuits. Fiber optics were developed by the military to communicate with their nuclear missiles so that even if we got hit first, our missiles would still be able to be launched. The only thing I found on this was that “In 1975, the United States Government decided to link the computers in the NORAD headquarters at Cheyenne Mountain using fiber optics to reduce interference.” So, yes he’s right, but fiber optics had many other possible uses and researchers working on it way before 1975. Though I’m sure having the military throw almost endless money at a technology can’t hurt.
You can never get all the oil out of an oil can
Answer: partially true
With enough time and patients, you could get every last drop of oil out of a can. I believe dad’s lesson was to know when to balance time against money. At some point, you begin to lose the value of using all the oil in the can as you endlessly watch that spider web thin stream of oil flow out. More advice than fact, but I’ll give him credit.
During World War 2, The Japanese soldiers were awful bastards
Answer: true
True in as much as you can call an entire group of people awful bastards. As a child, I was familiar with Japanese culture only through Godzilla and samurais. Dad would speak at length of the atrocities that were committed to POWs and especially the Chinese. I didn’t really believe him. Turns out he was right. But, as he also said, we bombed them back into civility.
We bombed the Japanese back into civility
Answer: kinda true
But only by anecdotal evidence. Article 9 of the 1947 US enforced Japanese Constitution did not allow them to build the armies capable of waging war. Through nuclear bombs, we also allowed the creation of Godzilla which protects their sovereign shores.
Glass is a solid
Answer: true!!
I remember seeing old panes of glass that were thicker on the bottom that at the top. Someone told be that is because glass is a very thick liquid and over time it will flow due to the pull of gravity. Dad said that was nonsense. He was right.
The flag raisers on Iwo Jima were all American Indians
Answer: 5/6th false or 1/6th true
Ira Hayes was the only Native American that helped to raise the flag in the historic photo. Now dad also said that the historic photo was actually the second flag to go up. The first was taken down and replaced with a larger flag. He was right about that!
Bridges over interstates are built to an exact height so that ICMBs on the back of tractor trailers can fit underneath
Answer: 99% right and 1% undecided
I thought that dad was blowing some smoke here, but he was right. My assumption is that the bridges would be built to a certain height and then the military would figure out a way to go under them. I just read on the Federal Highway Administration site that all interstate bridges need to be 16.07 feet tall in coordination with the Department of Defense. Matt Rosenburg at about.com says differently and I contacted him with a very terse letter that went something like this: MY DAD IS RIGHT AND YOU ARE WRONG!!! My dad could so kick his dad's ass.
There once was a diet pill where you would eat a tapeworm to lose weight
Answer: Undetermined
Want to lose weight? Take this pill. Want to stop losing weight? Take the second pill. Dad said the first pill had a tapeworm in it. The second pill had the medicine to kill the tapeworm in it. Here what Snopes.com has to say about it.
Henry Ford used shipping crates to build his Model T
Answer: true??
Dad said that Henry Ford would have his suppliers ship him product in crates with very specific dimensions. Odd dimensions with holes and cut outs in odd places. The directions were very specific and contractors, not wanting to lose business, built the crates without question. Then at the Ford factory, these specialty designed crates were emptied of their contents, disassembled and installed into Model Ts as floorboards. I’ve seen anecdotal evidence of this, but not any proof. I’ll give Pa this one.
Overall, Dad did pretty good. I’m sure he’d argue that he was right on most of these or that I wasn’t listening to what he really said. Then the conversation would drift to the Korean War and where he got that rash from deep in the jungle.
Here’s what Dad said:
Out of every five miles of interstate, there will be at least one mile that is straight so that planes can land during war time.
Answer: false
Dad said that Eisenhower, being a war guy, had the foresight to see the need for planes landing in out of the way places or in an emergency. Sadly, this is just an urban legend .
The military got fiber optic technology off the ground
Answer: not really
Dad said nuclear bombs create Electro Magnetic Pulses which knock out electronic circuits. Fiber optics were developed by the military to communicate with their nuclear missiles so that even if we got hit first, our missiles would still be able to be launched. The only thing I found on this was that “In 1975, the United States Government decided to link the computers in the NORAD headquarters at Cheyenne Mountain using fiber optics to reduce interference.” So, yes he’s right, but fiber optics had many other possible uses and researchers working on it way before 1975. Though I’m sure having the military throw almost endless money at a technology can’t hurt.
You can never get all the oil out of an oil can
Answer: partially true
With enough time and patients, you could get every last drop of oil out of a can. I believe dad’s lesson was to know when to balance time against money. At some point, you begin to lose the value of using all the oil in the can as you endlessly watch that spider web thin stream of oil flow out. More advice than fact, but I’ll give him credit.
During World War 2, The Japanese soldiers were awful bastards
Answer: true
True in as much as you can call an entire group of people awful bastards. As a child, I was familiar with Japanese culture only through Godzilla and samurais. Dad would speak at length of the atrocities that were committed to POWs and especially the Chinese. I didn’t really believe him. Turns out he was right. But, as he also said, we bombed them back into civility.
We bombed the Japanese back into civility
Answer: kinda true
But only by anecdotal evidence. Article 9 of the 1947 US enforced Japanese Constitution did not allow them to build the armies capable of waging war. Through nuclear bombs, we also allowed the creation of Godzilla which protects their sovereign shores.
Glass is a solid
Answer: true!!
I remember seeing old panes of glass that were thicker on the bottom that at the top. Someone told be that is because glass is a very thick liquid and over time it will flow due to the pull of gravity. Dad said that was nonsense. He was right.
The flag raisers on Iwo Jima were all American Indians
Answer: 5/6th false or 1/6th true
Ira Hayes was the only Native American that helped to raise the flag in the historic photo. Now dad also said that the historic photo was actually the second flag to go up. The first was taken down and replaced with a larger flag. He was right about that!
Bridges over interstates are built to an exact height so that ICMBs on the back of tractor trailers can fit underneath
Answer: 99% right and 1% undecided
I thought that dad was blowing some smoke here, but he was right. My assumption is that the bridges would be built to a certain height and then the military would figure out a way to go under them. I just read on the Federal Highway Administration site that all interstate bridges need to be 16.07 feet tall in coordination with the Department of Defense. Matt Rosenburg at about.com says differently and I contacted him with a very terse letter that went something like this: MY DAD IS RIGHT AND YOU ARE WRONG!!! My dad could so kick his dad's ass.
There once was a diet pill where you would eat a tapeworm to lose weight
Answer: Undetermined
Want to lose weight? Take this pill. Want to stop losing weight? Take the second pill. Dad said the first pill had a tapeworm in it. The second pill had the medicine to kill the tapeworm in it. Here what Snopes.com has to say about it.
Henry Ford used shipping crates to build his Model T
Answer: true??
Dad said that Henry Ford would have his suppliers ship him product in crates with very specific dimensions. Odd dimensions with holes and cut outs in odd places. The directions were very specific and contractors, not wanting to lose business, built the crates without question. Then at the Ford factory, these specialty designed crates were emptied of their contents, disassembled and installed into Model Ts as floorboards. I’ve seen anecdotal evidence of this, but not any proof. I’ll give Pa this one.
Overall, Dad did pretty good. I’m sure he’d argue that he was right on most of these or that I wasn’t listening to what he really said. Then the conversation would drift to the Korean War and where he got that rash from deep in the jungle.
Ann and Doug at the Newport Aquarium
It's not really that Ann is so beautiful. It's just that she makes all other children look ugly.
Ask HolyJuan: Tapioca
Dear HolyJuan,
Just what the heck is tapioca?
Sincerely,
Puddin'
Dear Puddin’,
I believe what you are actually asking is “why the heck is tapioca?”
I’m not sure what tapioca is made from so I cannot answer “what.” I do know what tapioca looks and feels like so I am able to answer “why.”
This tasteless combination of not exactly liquid stuff mixed in with bits of not exactly solid stuff combines to create something that makes most non-Newtonian fluids shit their collective pants. I believe it is an abomination to God himself. This "food" is like napalm, but less flamey.
The only way to speak about tapioca is to do so in the past tense so that you can pretend like it does not exist anymore and therefore your conscious, sub-conscious and pre-conscious mind(s) do not have to deal with its viral complexities.
Tapioca was the standard fare in most grade school lunched. It was been popularized in the 80’s television shown “Eight were Enough.” Who didn’t laughed at the bucked-tooth kid who’d spilt said Tapioca on the bathroomed floored. Gooded times!
I hope this answers your question!
Signed,
HolyJuan
{Send your questions to holyjuan@gmail.com. This was an actual question from a reader. Next week's may not be so don't get your hopes up.}
Just what the heck is tapioca?
Sincerely,
Puddin'
Dear Puddin’,
I believe what you are actually asking is “why the heck is tapioca?”
I’m not sure what tapioca is made from so I cannot answer “what.” I do know what tapioca looks and feels like so I am able to answer “why.”
This tasteless combination of not exactly liquid stuff mixed in with bits of not exactly solid stuff combines to create something that makes most non-Newtonian fluids shit their collective pants. I believe it is an abomination to God himself. This "food" is like napalm, but less flamey.
The only way to speak about tapioca is to do so in the past tense so that you can pretend like it does not exist anymore and therefore your conscious, sub-conscious and pre-conscious mind(s) do not have to deal with its viral complexities.
Tapioca was the standard fare in most grade school lunched. It was been popularized in the 80’s television shown “Eight were Enough.” Who didn’t laughed at the bucked-tooth kid who’d spilt said Tapioca on the bathroomed floored. Gooded times!
I hope this answers your question!
Signed,
HolyJuan
{Send your questions to holyjuan@gmail.com. This was an actual question from a reader. Next week's may not be so don't get your hopes up.}
People You Should Not F*ck With
I know there are obvious people you should not fuck with; Jack Bauer, Chuck Norris, ninjas, drunken pirates. This is a lesser known list of people you just should not mess with.
Computer Guys
Even the most basic form of Computer Guy can really screw up your life. A vengeful IT guy can delete programs, change settings, reset passwords or just take his sweet ass time getting to your simple problem that you can’t fix because you do not have the administrative rights. Of course, the reason why IT guy is pissed at you is because YOU screwed something up in the first place.
People with Unibrows
Through intensive study at bars and truckstops, I have found that unibrowed persons are very angry and only need just the slightest excuse to kick your ass. Perhaps it is because of the excessive hair that they are upset. Maybe all that anger needs an outlet and it is expelled from the body in the form of eye hair in the peak of the nose area. I don’t know. I just know that when someone with a unibrow starts raising his (or her) voice, I either do what they say or leave as quickly as possible. For example, Frank Zappa had a unibrow. Don’t piss off Frank Zappa. Even from the grave that guy will kick your ass.
Pacifists
DO NOT FUCK WITH PACIFISTS. I’m telling you this now in all honesty. Let them protest. Let them carry signs. Let them have a sit-in in your lobby. You would think by their very nature that they abhor violence. Think again. Pacifists will let you push them down a couple of times. They will turn the other cheek once or twice. But once you push them over the line, they will attack you with violence most vicious. Shit, even Jesus when all ballistic in the Temple. This is especially true with Vegans and Environmentalists. If you shove a grass eating tree hugger one too many times, you might wake up in the morning with shrapnel from your exploded SUV in your ass and some chick with long, unwashed hair beating you with a fence post.
Husbands
I am a husband and I would assume that I would get very violent if you fucked with me. The way you fuck with me is by causing harm to my kids or sleeping with my wife. Most husbands do not blame their wife (or themselves) for the infidelity and move right along to the “other guy” for an ass whooping. If you are going to sleep with another guy’s wife, make sure you sleep with a big muscle bound guy’s wife. He’ll just beat you up once. If you mess around with a skinny guy’s wife, he knows that he cannot kick your ass and will shoot you with a gun. If he is a skinny Computer Guy, watch out!
Morning Radio People
I have experience with this one. Morning Radio people control the volume. If they don’t like what you are saying, they will turn it down and then call you an asshole. Long after you have hung up the phone with them, they can talk about your impotency and body odor to their audience and you cannot defend yourself. Bastards.
Scientologists
People who believe in an invisible, vengeful guy in the sky can be pretty kooky. People who believe that sad aliens are stuck in your body and to get you happy they want you to hook yourself up to a battery charger, give them money, recruit more people through the battery charger to give them more money so that the invisible, vengeful guy in the sky will be happy are completely whacked out... and rich! Rich, whacked out people will do anything to keep you from taking away their income source. DO NOT PISS OFF SCIENTOLOGISTS.
Libertarians
Libertarians are like pacifists with better political views. The reason you shouldn’t mess with them is not because they will beat you up, but rather they will attempt to get you to believe in their point of view. This is worst than a beating. I have written several articles on many different subjects and pissed many people off. The only people to e-mail me have been Libertarians. Unless you want to get involved in a conversation that you won’t want to win, leave them alone. You may think it is cool to talk to someone about the legalization of drugs, but then they start dropping the no government line, giving hand jobs to Friedman and getting rid of NASA jive and you are stuck. (Please send all comments and correction via e-mail to holyjuan@gmail.com)
People Who Ask You to Come Over and Talk to Them
If you are at a bar or on the street and someone from a distance calls you over to talk to them, don’t. Walk away as quickly as possible. This is a trap. If you cannot leave, just say that you can hear them fine from where they are sitting. At the first opportunity, fake a cell phone call or a groin pull and get out, even if you have to leave behind the chick you are on a date with. She’s probably the reason why the guy wants to talk to you in the first place.
People Who Are Upset You Didn’t Come Over and Talk to Them When They Asked The First Time
(See above.) Ok, so you didn’t go over and talk to the guy, you didn’t leave and you didn’t fake a groin pull. Now you have made the guy get up and walk over to you. THIS IS NOT AN ADVANTAGE. While you are getting the beat down from him and his posse that have magically appeared out of the aether, think about becoming a married, pacifist, computer guy so that next time you’ll be able to defend yourself.
Computer Guys
Even the most basic form of Computer Guy can really screw up your life. A vengeful IT guy can delete programs, change settings, reset passwords or just take his sweet ass time getting to your simple problem that you can’t fix because you do not have the administrative rights. Of course, the reason why IT guy is pissed at you is because YOU screwed something up in the first place.
People with Unibrows
Through intensive study at bars and truckstops, I have found that unibrowed persons are very angry and only need just the slightest excuse to kick your ass. Perhaps it is because of the excessive hair that they are upset. Maybe all that anger needs an outlet and it is expelled from the body in the form of eye hair in the peak of the nose area. I don’t know. I just know that when someone with a unibrow starts raising his (or her) voice, I either do what they say or leave as quickly as possible. For example, Frank Zappa had a unibrow. Don’t piss off Frank Zappa. Even from the grave that guy will kick your ass.
Pacifists
DO NOT FUCK WITH PACIFISTS. I’m telling you this now in all honesty. Let them protest. Let them carry signs. Let them have a sit-in in your lobby. You would think by their very nature that they abhor violence. Think again. Pacifists will let you push them down a couple of times. They will turn the other cheek once or twice. But once you push them over the line, they will attack you with violence most vicious. Shit, even Jesus when all ballistic in the Temple. This is especially true with Vegans and Environmentalists. If you shove a grass eating tree hugger one too many times, you might wake up in the morning with shrapnel from your exploded SUV in your ass and some chick with long, unwashed hair beating you with a fence post.
Husbands
I am a husband and I would assume that I would get very violent if you fucked with me. The way you fuck with me is by causing harm to my kids or sleeping with my wife. Most husbands do not blame their wife (or themselves) for the infidelity and move right along to the “other guy” for an ass whooping. If you are going to sleep with another guy’s wife, make sure you sleep with a big muscle bound guy’s wife. He’ll just beat you up once. If you mess around with a skinny guy’s wife, he knows that he cannot kick your ass and will shoot you with a gun. If he is a skinny Computer Guy, watch out!
Morning Radio People
I have experience with this one. Morning Radio people control the volume. If they don’t like what you are saying, they will turn it down and then call you an asshole. Long after you have hung up the phone with them, they can talk about your impotency and body odor to their audience and you cannot defend yourself. Bastards.
Scientologists
People who believe in an invisible, vengeful guy in the sky can be pretty kooky. People who believe that sad aliens are stuck in your body and to get you happy they want you to hook yourself up to a battery charger, give them money, recruit more people through the battery charger to give them more money so that the invisible, vengeful guy in the sky will be happy are completely whacked out... and rich! Rich, whacked out people will do anything to keep you from taking away their income source. DO NOT PISS OFF SCIENTOLOGISTS.
Libertarians
Libertarians are like pacifists with better political views. The reason you shouldn’t mess with them is not because they will beat you up, but rather they will attempt to get you to believe in their point of view. This is worst than a beating. I have written several articles on many different subjects and pissed many people off. The only people to e-mail me have been Libertarians. Unless you want to get involved in a conversation that you won’t want to win, leave them alone. You may think it is cool to talk to someone about the legalization of drugs, but then they start dropping the no government line, giving hand jobs to Friedman and getting rid of NASA jive and you are stuck. (Please send all comments and correction via e-mail to holyjuan@gmail.com)
People Who Ask You to Come Over and Talk to Them
If you are at a bar or on the street and someone from a distance calls you over to talk to them, don’t. Walk away as quickly as possible. This is a trap. If you cannot leave, just say that you can hear them fine from where they are sitting. At the first opportunity, fake a cell phone call or a groin pull and get out, even if you have to leave behind the chick you are on a date with. She’s probably the reason why the guy wants to talk to you in the first place.
People Who Are Upset You Didn’t Come Over and Talk to Them When They Asked The First Time
(See above.) Ok, so you didn’t go over and talk to the guy, you didn’t leave and you didn’t fake a groin pull. Now you have made the guy get up and walk over to you. THIS IS NOT AN ADVANTAGE. While you are getting the beat down from him and his posse that have magically appeared out of the aether, think about becoming a married, pacifist, computer guy so that next time you’ll be able to defend yourself.
$6,744 in electronics and a what?
I read this in the Wednesday 18th, 2007 Westerville News and Public Opinion paper. I'm sure the lettuce was all part of his master plan.
Ask HolyJuan : A Small Problem
Dear HolyJuan,
I am hoping you can help me with a small problem. I am a seventy-one year old man, but I feel like I am twenty-five on the inside. I have a way with the ladies, especially hotel workers. I travel a lot and with my wife living in Orlando, I need an outlet for my sexual desires. Believe it or not, I don’t even need Viagra!
My problem is that I have a lack of blood flow to my groin. Once I start to get an erection, the blood that helps to keep my sphincter muscles shut is reduced and I let loose with hot, steamy flatulence. That tends to drive the ladies away.
Can you help?
Signed,
Air of Unhappiness
Dear Air,
My friend, I feel your pain. And I also smell your pain.
Here is my suggestion: when at the hotel, chatting it up with the front desk staff, and you feel Mr. Wrinkly starting to wake up and dust himself off, excuse yourself to the bathroom. Once in a stall, pull down your Depends and put one foot on the toilet. Now, stuff one of your saggy, old man balls into your butt. You’ll find that it will reach easily and probably slip right in. This will block flatulence and any anal leakage. Now for the hard part – pull the Depends back up and use the Velcro straps to over tighten the waistband, forming a sort of crotch tourniquet. Use your pocket knife to cut a small hole in the front, allowing your disgusting, liver spotted wiener an opportunity to breathe and to poke out. Cut a second hole just underneath the first and allow the other ball that is not shoved up your butt to dangle. Pull up your pants and (carefully!) zip them up. Now, go get ‘em tiger!
I would also suggest painting the Depends flesh colored to camouflage them during that eye-tearing out sex you have with these foreign, drunk hotel staff. Dab on moles with a sharpie (not green) for added reality.
BONUS ADVICE: at the end of the horrific ordeal you call sex, at the point of orgasm, yank the one dangling ball downward, which will bust the seams on your depends and unleash the second ball with great gouts of gas and yesterday’s porridge. The sensation of all the blood rushing back to your sphincter will be MINDBLOWING. All except that you will not remember anything about it in ten minutes, you old, forgetful fuck.
Best of Luck!
Signed,
HolyJuan
{Send your questions to holyjuan@gmail.com. If you do not, I’ll have to make up another letter for next time. And we do not want to see or smell that.}
I am hoping you can help me with a small problem. I am a seventy-one year old man, but I feel like I am twenty-five on the inside. I have a way with the ladies, especially hotel workers. I travel a lot and with my wife living in Orlando, I need an outlet for my sexual desires. Believe it or not, I don’t even need Viagra!
My problem is that I have a lack of blood flow to my groin. Once I start to get an erection, the blood that helps to keep my sphincter muscles shut is reduced and I let loose with hot, steamy flatulence. That tends to drive the ladies away.
Can you help?
Signed,
Air of Unhappiness
Dear Air,
My friend, I feel your pain. And I also smell your pain.
Here is my suggestion: when at the hotel, chatting it up with the front desk staff, and you feel Mr. Wrinkly starting to wake up and dust himself off, excuse yourself to the bathroom. Once in a stall, pull down your Depends and put one foot on the toilet. Now, stuff one of your saggy, old man balls into your butt. You’ll find that it will reach easily and probably slip right in. This will block flatulence and any anal leakage. Now for the hard part – pull the Depends back up and use the Velcro straps to over tighten the waistband, forming a sort of crotch tourniquet. Use your pocket knife to cut a small hole in the front, allowing your disgusting, liver spotted wiener an opportunity to breathe and to poke out. Cut a second hole just underneath the first and allow the other ball that is not shoved up your butt to dangle. Pull up your pants and (carefully!) zip them up. Now, go get ‘em tiger!
I would also suggest painting the Depends flesh colored to camouflage them during that eye-tearing out sex you have with these foreign, drunk hotel staff. Dab on moles with a sharpie (not green) for added reality.
BONUS ADVICE: at the end of the horrific ordeal you call sex, at the point of orgasm, yank the one dangling ball downward, which will bust the seams on your depends and unleash the second ball with great gouts of gas and yesterday’s porridge. The sensation of all the blood rushing back to your sphincter will be MINDBLOWING. All except that you will not remember anything about it in ten minutes, you old, forgetful fuck.
Best of Luck!
Signed,
HolyJuan
{Send your questions to holyjuan@gmail.com. If you do not, I’ll have to make up another letter for next time. And we do not want to see or smell that.}
Scientist Plans for Frozen Noah’s Ark
Source
Belgian scientist Dr. Mark Drascht believes the Earth is doomed. “Whether by global warming or cooling, nuclear terrorism or just plain stupidity, we are all going to be dead in the next 100 years.”
When the world is wiped clean, Dr. Drascht doesn’t want our history to be destroyed as well. Dr. Drascht is creating a time capsule, and it is not just your basic newspaper, deck of playing cards and Twinkies in a concrete box either. He’s creating a frozen, biological “life capsule,” so that future alien space explorers can find us and perhaps revive our species.
“It’s a kind of frozen Noah’s Ark. I’ve even included doves and an olive tree!”
Dr. Drascht has plans to collect over two hundred mammals and birds, sixty reptiles and six hundred plant species for his life capsule. “Timing is very important. We can only afford to make one trip to the South Pole, and the animals and plants must be frozen alive at the site. It’s one hell of a coordination feat.”
Using data from the past 200 years, Dr. Drascht has located a spot 100 miles from the South Pole that he believes will remain frozen for the next 10,000 years. “Plate tectonics in that area will continue to rotate around the pole. This exact spot will allow our specimens to remain at sub-zero temperatures for the next ten millennia. Basically, it is a maintenance-free freezer.”
Dr. Drascht will transport all the living biological specimens to Antarctica, where they will be flash frozen alive and placed into the life capsule. “We are actually going to use the animals and two human specimens to help dig the area necessary for the life capsule. We’ve been working on training the animals for the dig. We’ve modified elk horns and squirrels’ teeth to assist with digging in the rock hard ice. For the humans, we've procured a number of high-tech digging tools, including two highly-modified Garden Weasels (tm) originally designed for the military.”
There seems to be an endless supply of males who are willing to be flash frozen alive. Finding women who want to be frozen alive is a bit more difficult for Dr. Drascht. “I’ve received applications from two women. One was 75 years old, and the other woman was over 125 kilos (275 pounds.) We’d need to carve a larger hole in the ice for that type of specimen!”
The original plan for the life capsule has changed over the years, but Dr. Drascht is still hopeful. “We originally planned on separate ice caverns for each type of specimen, but the budget has deemed otherwise.” Dr. Drascht’s team will now dig just one hole or “life pit” and place all the specimens in one space. According to Drascht, the biggest challenge will be to quickly freeze the animal specimens before the carnivores eat the herbivores. "The plan is to ensure that all the predators are very well fed prior to being placed into the life pit. I’m considering feeding the animals with protein infused pages from a set of encyclopedias so the future autopsies will reveal a summation of Earth’s history."
One other hole will be used for the “Demise Database” equipment. Drascht is not looking to preserve technology, but rather to create an historical database, so that alien space travelers will know why the planet became devoid of life forms. “At the life pit, we are setting up a satellite internet connection and a printer. Once a week, we will download and print the contents of cnn.com and one random site, pornography excluded, so that we can have a hard copy of Earth’s demise.” There are obvious technological issues with electronics at the South Pole, but printing in sub-zero temperatures won’t be a problem. “We’ve mixed the printer ink with a jellyfish-based anti-freeze. It keeps the ink from freezing and really stretches out our ink inventory. That printer ink is expensive!”
Dr. Drascht is justifiably excited about the earth's imminent demise. "It's all too much, really. I just wish the dinosaurs had possessed brains bigger than peas so that they could have created life capsules to clue us in on their extinction."
Belgian scientist Dr. Mark Drascht believes the Earth is doomed. “Whether by global warming or cooling, nuclear terrorism or just plain stupidity, we are all going to be dead in the next 100 years.”
When the world is wiped clean, Dr. Drascht doesn’t want our history to be destroyed as well. Dr. Drascht is creating a time capsule, and it is not just your basic newspaper, deck of playing cards and Twinkies in a concrete box either. He’s creating a frozen, biological “life capsule,” so that future alien space explorers can find us and perhaps revive our species.
“It’s a kind of frozen Noah’s Ark. I’ve even included doves and an olive tree!”
Dr. Drascht has plans to collect over two hundred mammals and birds, sixty reptiles and six hundred plant species for his life capsule. “Timing is very important. We can only afford to make one trip to the South Pole, and the animals and plants must be frozen alive at the site. It’s one hell of a coordination feat.”
Using data from the past 200 years, Dr. Drascht has located a spot 100 miles from the South Pole that he believes will remain frozen for the next 10,000 years. “Plate tectonics in that area will continue to rotate around the pole. This exact spot will allow our specimens to remain at sub-zero temperatures for the next ten millennia. Basically, it is a maintenance-free freezer.”
Dr. Drascht will transport all the living biological specimens to Antarctica, where they will be flash frozen alive and placed into the life capsule. “We are actually going to use the animals and two human specimens to help dig the area necessary for the life capsule. We’ve been working on training the animals for the dig. We’ve modified elk horns and squirrels’ teeth to assist with digging in the rock hard ice. For the humans, we've procured a number of high-tech digging tools, including two highly-modified Garden Weasels (tm) originally designed for the military.”
There seems to be an endless supply of males who are willing to be flash frozen alive. Finding women who want to be frozen alive is a bit more difficult for Dr. Drascht. “I’ve received applications from two women. One was 75 years old, and the other woman was over 125 kilos (275 pounds.) We’d need to carve a larger hole in the ice for that type of specimen!”
The original plan for the life capsule has changed over the years, but Dr. Drascht is still hopeful. “We originally planned on separate ice caverns for each type of specimen, but the budget has deemed otherwise.” Dr. Drascht’s team will now dig just one hole or “life pit” and place all the specimens in one space. According to Drascht, the biggest challenge will be to quickly freeze the animal specimens before the carnivores eat the herbivores. "The plan is to ensure that all the predators are very well fed prior to being placed into the life pit. I’m considering feeding the animals with protein infused pages from a set of encyclopedias so the future autopsies will reveal a summation of Earth’s history."
One other hole will be used for the “Demise Database” equipment. Drascht is not looking to preserve technology, but rather to create an historical database, so that alien space travelers will know why the planet became devoid of life forms. “At the life pit, we are setting up a satellite internet connection and a printer. Once a week, we will download and print the contents of cnn.com and one random site, pornography excluded, so that we can have a hard copy of Earth’s demise.” There are obvious technological issues with electronics at the South Pole, but printing in sub-zero temperatures won’t be a problem. “We’ve mixed the printer ink with a jellyfish-based anti-freeze. It keeps the ink from freezing and really stretches out our ink inventory. That printer ink is expensive!”
Dr. Drascht is justifiably excited about the earth's imminent demise. "It's all too much, really. I just wish the dinosaurs had possessed brains bigger than peas so that they could have created life capsules to clue us in on their extinction."
Shrimp Attack! Re-release
I may be the second worst promoter ever.
Shrimp Attack! is going to be officially re-released some time this week. Or next week. At least I think it was going to be in July. Of 2007.
Read me writing about Shrimp Attack! here.
Check out Shrimp Attack! on here. at myspace.com/shrimpattackcd.
You can also hear the full album on last.fm .
And if you want to buy a limited edition CD that is bound to win a Grammy, check out innova Recordings.
Shrimp Attack! is going to be officially re-released some time this week. Or next week. At least I think it was going to be in July. Of 2007.
Read me writing about Shrimp Attack! here.
Check out Shrimp Attack! on here. at myspace.com/shrimpattackcd.
You can also hear the full album on last.fm .
And if you want to buy a limited edition CD that is bound to win a Grammy, check out innova Recordings.
An easily digestible listing of the Rotten Tomatoes Top 100 Rated Science Fiction Films
I love the Rotten Tomatoes movie review website. They take a large number of movie reviews and cram them all in one spot. I highly suggest you check out their site.
They recently posted the Top 100 Rated Science Fiction Films. The problem with this list is that they used a complicated formula based on reviewer ratings to get the top 100. By reviewing the list, you’ll note that this system is flawed. The other problem is that the interface is clunky. To save time and more time, I’ve listed them out here.
100. Escape From the Planet of the Apes (1971)
99. Star Trek III: The Search for Spock (1984)
98. Star Trek III: The Search for Spock (1984)
97. The Thing (1982)
96. A Boy and His Dog (1975)
95. Dark Star (1974)
94. Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985)
93. Dreamscape (1983)
92. It Came From Outer Space (1953)
91. A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001)
90. Death Race 2000 (1975)
89. War of the Worlds (2005)
88. Flash Gordon (1980)
87. Return of the Jedi (1983)
86. Starman (1984)
85. Innerspace (1987)
84. Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (2004)
83. Signs (2002)
82. Dark City (1998)
81. The Matrix Reloaded (2003)
80. The War of the Worlds (1953)
79. Total Recall (1990)
78. Gattaca (1997)
77. Videodrome (1983)
76. X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes (1963)
75. The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976)
74. Journey to the Center of the Earth (1959)
73. Alphaville (1965)
72. Seconds (1966)
71. Fahrenheit 451 (1966)
70. Time After Time (1979)
69. Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure (1989)
68. The Abyss (1989)
67. Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country (1991)
66. Escape from New York (1981)
65. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954
64. Pi (1997)
63. The Thing (1951)
62. Jurassic Park (1993)
61. Open Your Eyes (1997)
60. Robocop (1987)
59. Altered States (1980)
58. The Brother From Another Planet (1984)
57. Planet of the Apes (1968)
56. Westworld (1973)
55. Fantastic Voyage (1966)
54. Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home (1986)
53. They Live (1988)
52. Save The Green Planet! (2005)
51. Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (2005)
50. Things to Come (1936)
49. District B13 (2006)
48. Serenity (2005)
47. Donnie Darko (2001)
46. Delicatessen (1991)
45. A Clockwork Orange (1971)
44. 12 Monkeys (1995)
43. Re-Animator (1985)
42. 2046 (2005)
41. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982)
40. THX 1138 (1971)
39. The Fly (1986)
38. Time Bandits (1982)
37. Them! (1954)
36. Blade Runner (1982)
35. Star Trek: First Contact (1996)
34. Forbidden Planet (1956)
33. Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)
32. The Matrix (1999)
31. The Invisible Man (1933)
30. Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)
29. Ghostbusters (1984)
28. Men in Black (1997)
27. Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)
26. Young Frankenstein (1974)
25. Gojira (1954)
24. Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978)
23. Sleeper (1973)
22. Back to the Future (1985)
21. Repo Man (1984)
20. Mad Max (1979)
19. Frankenstein (1931)
18. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
17. Solaris (1972)
16. Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)
15. The Terminator (1984)
14. Brazil (1985)
13. Galaxy Quest (1999)
12. The Bride of Frankenstein (1935)
11. The Road Warrior (1981)
10. Aliens (1986)
9. Star Wars (1977)
8. The Host (2007)
7. Children of Men (2006)
6. The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
5. Minority Report (2002)
4. Alien (1979)
3. Metropolis (1926)
2. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
1. E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial (1982)
At some point I will have to put these in the correct order. The Matrix in at 32nd? You've got to be kidding me.
They recently posted the Top 100 Rated Science Fiction Films. The problem with this list is that they used a complicated formula based on reviewer ratings to get the top 100. By reviewing the list, you’ll note that this system is flawed. The other problem is that the interface is clunky. To save time and more time, I’ve listed them out here.
100. Escape From the Planet of the Apes (1971)
99. Star Trek III: The Search for Spock (1984)
98. Star Trek III: The Search for Spock (1984)
97. The Thing (1982)
96. A Boy and His Dog (1975)
95. Dark Star (1974)
94. Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome (1985)
93. Dreamscape (1983)
92. It Came From Outer Space (1953)
91. A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001)
90. Death Race 2000 (1975)
89. War of the Worlds (2005)
88. Flash Gordon (1980)
87. Return of the Jedi (1983)
86. Starman (1984)
85. Innerspace (1987)
84. Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow (2004)
83. Signs (2002)
82. Dark City (1998)
81. The Matrix Reloaded (2003)
80. The War of the Worlds (1953)
79. Total Recall (1990)
78. Gattaca (1997)
77. Videodrome (1983)
76. X: The Man with the X-Ray Eyes (1963)
75. The Man Who Fell to Earth (1976)
74. Journey to the Center of the Earth (1959)
73. Alphaville (1965)
72. Seconds (1966)
71. Fahrenheit 451 (1966)
70. Time After Time (1979)
69. Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure (1989)
68. The Abyss (1989)
67. Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country (1991)
66. Escape from New York (1981)
65. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea (1954
64. Pi (1997)
63. The Thing (1951)
62. Jurassic Park (1993)
61. Open Your Eyes (1997)
60. Robocop (1987)
59. Altered States (1980)
58. The Brother From Another Planet (1984)
57. Planet of the Apes (1968)
56. Westworld (1973)
55. Fantastic Voyage (1966)
54. Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home (1986)
53. They Live (1988)
52. Save The Green Planet! (2005)
51. Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (2005)
50. Things to Come (1936)
49. District B13 (2006)
48. Serenity (2005)
47. Donnie Darko (2001)
46. Delicatessen (1991)
45. A Clockwork Orange (1971)
44. 12 Monkeys (1995)
43. Re-Animator (1985)
42. 2046 (2005)
41. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982)
40. THX 1138 (1971)
39. The Fly (1986)
38. Time Bandits (1982)
37. Them! (1954)
36. Blade Runner (1982)
35. Star Trek: First Contact (1996)
34. Forbidden Planet (1956)
33. Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977)
32. The Matrix (1999)
31. The Invisible Man (1933)
30. Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)
29. Ghostbusters (1984)
28. Men in Black (1997)
27. Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)
26. Young Frankenstein (1974)
25. Gojira (1954)
24. Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978)
23. Sleeper (1973)
22. Back to the Future (1985)
21. Repo Man (1984)
20. Mad Max (1979)
19. Frankenstein (1931)
18. 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968)
17. Solaris (1972)
16. Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956)
15. The Terminator (1984)
14. Brazil (1985)
13. Galaxy Quest (1999)
12. The Bride of Frankenstein (1935)
11. The Road Warrior (1981)
10. Aliens (1986)
9. Star Wars (1977)
8. The Host (2007)
7. Children of Men (2006)
6. The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
5. Minority Report (2002)
4. Alien (1979)
3. Metropolis (1926)
2. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
1. E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial (1982)
At some point I will have to put these in the correct order. The Matrix in at 32nd? You've got to be kidding me.
Job
I got a job.
Thanks to everyone who helped and provided support by buying me drinks.
I'll be working Tue, Thur and Sat at Sirens in Columbus, OH. My stage name is Peaches.
Thanks to everyone who helped and provided support by buying me drinks.
I'll be working Tue, Thur and Sat at Sirens in Columbus, OH. My stage name is Peaches.
10 things that no one really gives a crap about
What music that shuttle astronauts wake up to
Anything libertarians have an opinion about
Ending a sentence in a preposition
Spelling and grammar in the comments section
Hemp (no one really gives a crap about hemp, they just want marijuana legalized)
Salt (salt used to be as bad as cigarettes... what happened?)
Manners (that sucks, but again, no one cares that it sucks)
What your kid did that was cute/funny
People who smoke all their lives dying from cancer
Your Blog
Anything libertarians have an opinion about
Ending a sentence in a preposition
Spelling and grammar in the comments section
Hemp (no one really gives a crap about hemp, they just want marijuana legalized)
Salt (salt used to be as bad as cigarettes... what happened?)
Manners (that sucks, but again, no one cares that it sucks)
What your kid did that was cute/funny
People who smoke all their lives dying from cancer
Your Blog
Thank you Lia. Thank you Meshell.
Over a year ago Lia suggested I start this site. I thought she was nuts.
Soon after the site was up, she suggested I get business cards. I thought she was nuts.
Last night, as a complete surprise, Meshell gave me a box of the HolyJuan business cards we had been designing.
I said, “This is the best gift I’ve had in a year!” Meshell said, “Wasn’t your baby girl born less than a year ago.”
I said, “This is the best gift I’ve had in the past six months!”
You can print these up and hand them out to your friends and/or enemies.
Soon after the site was up, she suggested I get business cards. I thought she was nuts.
Last night, as a complete surprise, Meshell gave me a box of the HolyJuan business cards we had been designing.
I said, “This is the best gift I’ve had in a year!” Meshell said, “Wasn’t your baby girl born less than a year ago.”
I said, “This is the best gift I’ve had in the past six months!”
You can print these up and hand them out to your friends and/or enemies.
The B & B
I didn’t have a lot of sex in college. Most of my friends think I did. My MO was to hook up, make out for a while and stick around third base without trying to steal home. That was actually my selling point. After about an hour at the bar of “I think I like you” and the next hour of “I think you like me” and about an hour before “I think we should get out of here” I would drop the, “I don’t think we should have sex” line. I think it opened a lot of doors. And pantses.
Telling a girl that you don't want to have sex takes away the pressure and anxiety. It allows you to have fun and know that you all ready have some pre-determined boundaries that don't need to be discussed. When the anxiety and pressure are off, the girl will be relaxed and then hopefully have sex with you.
Of course, telling a girl you don’t want to have sex and then having her want sex removes all guilt (if any) associated with the act. If you say you don’t wanna, but then you do because she wanna, it’s not your fault. It’s not. Really.
My very good friend, Handsome Joe, had a theory about hooking up. Less of a theory and more of a goal. He called it “The Bed and Breakfast.” Any dude can hook up; leave a sock lost somewhere in bed and do the walk of shame home. It’s genetic and it’s easy. Getting the girl to make you breakfast, now that was classy. You couldn’t ask for breakfast either. She had to suggest it. She had to make it. Cold cereal in the living room would get you in the club. Bacon and eggs was golden. Going out for breakfast didn’t count, but it did if she made you a pop tart and shoved you out the door. The Bed and Breakfast. The B & B.
There were several offshoots from the B & B. Joe had a B, B & B when he stayed at the girl’s apartment through an early lunch (The Bed, Breakfast and Brunch.) I once had the B & B with Grocery after I spent the night at a girl’s apartment during finals before winter break. We made out (the not having sex line stuck) and the next morning she made me eggs. She then asked if I wanted any food from her refrigerator as her finals were up and she was heading home. All that food would go to waste. Would I like to take it home? Of course I would. The B & B Grocery.
One fine spring evening at Ohio University, Handsome Joe and I went out to the bars. While having a few beers, a young lady that Joe knew came up and started talking to us. Joe quickly disappeared to the back of the crowded bar with her (The Good Cop always gets the first girl) and I was left mostly alone. As it turned out, my friend Greg was sitting up at the bar. This was a good sign. Greg and I were friends from high school, but we never saw each other out much at Ohio University. It was a good sign because the other two times I saw Greg out at the bars, I hooked up soon afterwards. I’d cut his foot off and wear it around my neck if it weren’t so big. And I guess it would be pretty bloody and stumpy, too.
As Greg and I drank at the bar, Trobes showed up. Trobes was 6’0” of long blonde hair and German ancestry. Trobes kinda liked me. I kinda liked Trobes. We had hooked up in the past (no breakfast yet.) As she sat in my lap at the bar (which was an odd combination of pleasure and boner crushing pain) she told Greg the 2nd greatest compliment I’ve ever received.
“Doug is the best necker in the world.” Wow. Honestly, I consider that a great compliment.
Several drinks afterwards, we left the bar. I had not seen Joe since he walked off and he could take care of himself. I asked Trobes if I could walk her home. She said yes. We walked back to her apartment.
Neither of Trobes' two roommates were home. We went to her bedroom.
{I need to note here that Trobes had a king sized bed. It took up most the room and shit it was big. I think she had an automatic sheet dispenser under the end because you could pull and pull at the sheets and they would just keep coming and coming.}
As we were making out, we heard one of Trobes’ roommates come in. Alone. A few minutes later her other roommate came home. Not so alone. They hung out in the kitchen for a few minutes and then retired to the room next door.
The making of the out continued and my Jedi mind trick about not wanting to have sex worked too well. Oh well… we had fun. I guess that’s what you get for being the best necker.
The next morning we woke up and chatted as we lounged around on the Eastern Plains of her bed. We could hear the lucky roommate chatting with her man. I did the “Shave and a Hair Cut” knock on the wall. They replied with a punctual “knock, knock.” Here is where you learn that I have a distinctive laugh. One that can be heard through a wall. One that Handsome Joe knows well. I laughed. The guy from the other side of the wall said, “Doug?”
“Joe?”
A minute later we were mostly dressed (where was my sock?) and all in the roommate’s room laughing and figuring out what happened the previous night. At some point, the roommate asked, “Do you guys want breakfast?”
Eggs. Bacon. Pancakes. The Bed Bed & Breakfast Breakfast. Or the Double B & B as it’s known in some circles. We couldn’t stop grinning as we sat, scrunched at the small round table in their kitchen, fork and knife in hand. Waiting. Watching the girls’ backs as they cooked at the stove.
*******
Open up any phone book to the yellow pages and you’ll see some sort of B & B business. Usually it’s a B and B Lawn Service or a B & B Auto Repair Shop. While you are driving around the city or through some small town, you’ll see the B & B on a slick, produced graphic or hand painted sign. It always takes me back.
Telling a girl that you don't want to have sex takes away the pressure and anxiety. It allows you to have fun and know that you all ready have some pre-determined boundaries that don't need to be discussed. When the anxiety and pressure are off, the girl will be relaxed and then hopefully have sex with you.
Of course, telling a girl you don’t want to have sex and then having her want sex removes all guilt (if any) associated with the act. If you say you don’t wanna, but then you do because she wanna, it’s not your fault. It’s not. Really.
My very good friend, Handsome Joe, had a theory about hooking up. Less of a theory and more of a goal. He called it “The Bed and Breakfast.” Any dude can hook up; leave a sock lost somewhere in bed and do the walk of shame home. It’s genetic and it’s easy. Getting the girl to make you breakfast, now that was classy. You couldn’t ask for breakfast either. She had to suggest it. She had to make it. Cold cereal in the living room would get you in the club. Bacon and eggs was golden. Going out for breakfast didn’t count, but it did if she made you a pop tart and shoved you out the door. The Bed and Breakfast. The B & B.
There were several offshoots from the B & B. Joe had a B, B & B when he stayed at the girl’s apartment through an early lunch (The Bed, Breakfast and Brunch.) I once had the B & B with Grocery after I spent the night at a girl’s apartment during finals before winter break. We made out (the not having sex line stuck) and the next morning she made me eggs. She then asked if I wanted any food from her refrigerator as her finals were up and she was heading home. All that food would go to waste. Would I like to take it home? Of course I would. The B & B Grocery.
One fine spring evening at Ohio University, Handsome Joe and I went out to the bars. While having a few beers, a young lady that Joe knew came up and started talking to us. Joe quickly disappeared to the back of the crowded bar with her (The Good Cop always gets the first girl) and I was left mostly alone. As it turned out, my friend Greg was sitting up at the bar. This was a good sign. Greg and I were friends from high school, but we never saw each other out much at Ohio University. It was a good sign because the other two times I saw Greg out at the bars, I hooked up soon afterwards. I’d cut his foot off and wear it around my neck if it weren’t so big. And I guess it would be pretty bloody and stumpy, too.
As Greg and I drank at the bar, Trobes showed up. Trobes was 6’0” of long blonde hair and German ancestry. Trobes kinda liked me. I kinda liked Trobes. We had hooked up in the past (no breakfast yet.) As she sat in my lap at the bar (which was an odd combination of pleasure and boner crushing pain) she told Greg the 2nd greatest compliment I’ve ever received.
“Doug is the best necker in the world.” Wow. Honestly, I consider that a great compliment.
Several drinks afterwards, we left the bar. I had not seen Joe since he walked off and he could take care of himself. I asked Trobes if I could walk her home. She said yes. We walked back to her apartment.
Neither of Trobes' two roommates were home. We went to her bedroom.
{I need to note here that Trobes had a king sized bed. It took up most the room and shit it was big. I think she had an automatic sheet dispenser under the end because you could pull and pull at the sheets and they would just keep coming and coming.}
As we were making out, we heard one of Trobes’ roommates come in. Alone. A few minutes later her other roommate came home. Not so alone. They hung out in the kitchen for a few minutes and then retired to the room next door.
The making of the out continued and my Jedi mind trick about not wanting to have sex worked too well. Oh well… we had fun. I guess that’s what you get for being the best necker.
The next morning we woke up and chatted as we lounged around on the Eastern Plains of her bed. We could hear the lucky roommate chatting with her man. I did the “Shave and a Hair Cut” knock on the wall. They replied with a punctual “knock, knock.” Here is where you learn that I have a distinctive laugh. One that can be heard through a wall. One that Handsome Joe knows well. I laughed. The guy from the other side of the wall said, “Doug?”
“Joe?”
A minute later we were mostly dressed (where was my sock?) and all in the roommate’s room laughing and figuring out what happened the previous night. At some point, the roommate asked, “Do you guys want breakfast?”
Eggs. Bacon. Pancakes. The Bed Bed & Breakfast Breakfast. Or the Double B & B as it’s known in some circles. We couldn’t stop grinning as we sat, scrunched at the small round table in their kitchen, fork and knife in hand. Waiting. Watching the girls’ backs as they cooked at the stove.
*******
Open up any phone book to the yellow pages and you’ll see some sort of B & B business. Usually it’s a B and B Lawn Service or a B & B Auto Repair Shop. While you are driving around the city or through some small town, you’ll see the B & B on a slick, produced graphic or hand painted sign. It always takes me back.
The Powers that Be
Doug, Jen, Andy and Dave.
Juliano stuck her head into the photo. At first we were pissed. Now I think we are glad she did.
My American Accent
| What American accent do you have? (Best version so far) Midland ("Midland" is not necessarily the same thing as "Midwest") The default, lowest-common-denominator American accent that newscasters try to imitate. Since it's a neutral accent, just because you have a Midland accent doesn't mean you're from the Midland. |
| Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests. |
See, I've got the voice to be a weatherman. Now I just need to git learned about rain and such.
Scanner up and running
I got the scanner up and running!
Sadly, I cannot get my anything funny up and running. This is the best it is going to get today.
Computer Woes
In the midst of job searching and writing and attempting to become famous, my computer has crashed pretty damn hard.
I bought a new hard drive and reinstalled XP while attempting to bring the old drive back to life. I've got the old files, but can't get the HD to boot. I'm guessing my programs are toast.
Service pack 2 is 112 megs? Damn...
I bought a new hard drive and reinstalled XP while attempting to bring the old drive back to life. I've got the old files, but can't get the HD to boot. I'm guessing my programs are toast.
Service pack 2 is 112 megs? Damn...
Famous Chicks I Get to Bang List (Updated)
I think it was a Friends episode where Ross had a list of famous women he was given permission by his spouse/fiancé to sleep with given the unlikely opportunity.
Well heck. As it turns out there is a name for it: A Laminated List . It seems quite popular.
Well, my list only has three and it is not laminated, so it is subject to change. My previous list was:
Christina Ricci
Leelee Sobieski
Melissa Joan Hart
I am officially updating the list to reflect the following:
Ricci stays at the top
LeeLee moves into the third spot
Ms. Hart is off the list
Sarah Silverman moves into the second spot
Given that the list doesn’t have any particular order, I realized that it actually does. In the off chance that I seduce both Sarah Silverman and Christina Ricci at the same after party, I’m going to have to choose one or the other as the list does not allow for threesomes. In this situation, I would consult the list, note the order, bang Ricci as I smile politely shrug to Sarah Silverman.
The key is to keep the old lists with the new, just in case you see your past listees on the set of a B-list reality show. I think I still have the original, yellowed hand printed list with:
Alyssa Milano
The Little Mermaid
Molly Ringwald
Well heck. As it turns out there is a name for it: A Laminated List . It seems quite popular.
Well, my list only has three and it is not laminated, so it is subject to change. My previous list was:
Christina Ricci
Leelee Sobieski
Melissa Joan Hart
I am officially updating the list to reflect the following:
Ricci stays at the top
LeeLee moves into the third spot
Ms. Hart is off the list
Sarah Silverman moves into the second spot
Given that the list doesn’t have any particular order, I realized that it actually does. In the off chance that I seduce both Sarah Silverman and Christina Ricci at the same after party, I’m going to have to choose one or the other as the list does not allow for threesomes. In this situation, I would consult the list, note the order, bang Ricci as I smile politely shrug to Sarah Silverman.
The key is to keep the old lists with the new, just in case you see your past listees on the set of a B-list reality show. I think I still have the original, yellowed hand printed list with:
Alyssa Milano
The Little Mermaid
Molly Ringwald
The Power (and cost) of Soup
Well crap.
Last year at this time, Meshell and I were talking about me publishing a children’s book. She had an illustration called The Power of Soup and I wrote a story about it with the same title.
I also registered www.thepowerofsoup.com. With all the money that was going to be coming my way, I thought it was prudent.
I made only one (failed) attempt at getting the story published and gave up.
I received three or four e-mails about the site subscription coming to an end. Each one a reminder that I was a lazy fuck. I just wanted it to die.
Well it didn’t…
Dear Douglas,
Customer Number: 7574832312
We just want to let you know we've automatically renewed the following items according to our agreement:
Product Name Unit Price Qty Total Price
------------ ---------- --- -----------
.COM Domain Name Renewal - 1 Year $ 8.95 1 $ 9.17
THEPOWEROFSOUP.COM
The automatic renewal was on. Crap.
So, for someone who does not believe in fate, I am going to make the best of this. I’ll re-write and re-submit.
Maybe we will look back at this and laugh. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Last year at this time, Meshell and I were talking about me publishing a children’s book. She had an illustration called The Power of Soup and I wrote a story about it with the same title.
I also registered www.thepowerofsoup.com. With all the money that was going to be coming my way, I thought it was prudent.
I made only one (failed) attempt at getting the story published and gave up.
I received three or four e-mails about the site subscription coming to an end. Each one a reminder that I was a lazy fuck. I just wanted it to die.
Well it didn’t…
Dear Douglas,
Customer Number: 7574832312
We just want to let you know we've automatically renewed the following items according to our agreement:
Product Name Unit Price Qty Total Price
------------ ---------- --- -----------
.COM Domain Name Renewal - 1 Year $ 8.95 1 $ 9.17
THEPOWEROFSOUP.COM
The automatic renewal was on. Crap.
So, for someone who does not believe in fate, I am going to make the best of this. I’ll re-write and re-submit.
Maybe we will look back at this and laugh. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Egotistical Bastard
As of 9:07 on 6/7/07, I am the number one search return for the phrase Egotistical Bastard on Google.
Egotistical Bastard
Finally... some respect.
Egotistical Bastard
Finally... some respect.
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