just now getting over it. One week of sick. Coughing up horrible things. Having more hot flashes than your highschool lunchlady. shity, shity. And now it looks like Katelyn has it, too. And Weathers, she got it as well. Cobb is next. Then, it will probably come back around to me again.
What else? Oh, my "boss" got fired today. Hilarious. Just Friday I was saying that it was only a matter of time...
Anything else? Hmmm. I was watching the History Channel the other day (weird, right?) and they have a great new program called History of the Joke. Its hosted by Lewis Black and its pretty awesome. Anyway, they told this one joke that was awesome.
q: Why couldnt Hellen Keller drive a car?
a: she was a woman.
fucking brilliant, man.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
...and still more
more shit i pasted from my OLD blog, from back in the day
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
long, pointless, and not funny at all. Sorry.
A dog that hadnt eaten in 3 weeks jumped up and tore his face off. Just like that. Chimps'll do it, too. You have to be careful. You have to walk around on fucking eggshells out here or you might just walk on glass. Im five years out of that goddamn bathroom where i left the nightime chills, window sills, spoon and pills and rolled-up bills. Hey, more than that, allmost i think 6 or seven years? But the 3 before the last 2 are a mess of fog and slurring haze that no one can remember but me, and i was blacked out for most of it. I am on the verge of a fucking nervous breakdown here. Its bad enough worrying in a way that is only half-joking, and only then so that it isnt all real, about the goddamn aliens and WHAT THEY ARE DOING up there and what have they got in store for YOU as you lie in bed too terrified to open your eyes at 3 am.....but now you have other things to worry about, dogs who are dying though they arent even sick, evil swine who are driving the fucking wagon towards the cliff at 500 MPH, insane family and all-too-sane coworkers. Youve got to worry about a car you havent seen in a year, because it blew up. Youve got to worry about whats going to happen in 10 years when your brothers get a chance to be as fucked up as you are, abour whats going to happen in ? years when someone finaly notices and brings the hammer down hard on your head, right at the exact second that you remember you forgot to wear your helmet that day...Yeah but sometimes you forget to worry and those are the times that you must concentrate on. Stretch them out as long as possible and refuse to let them end because their ending means the fucking Kracken will rise up again and then you are properly fucked. But in those times, ignore everything else. Tune it out. Ride the train you are on until it slams into the platform at the other end of the line, and then crawl up out of the wreckage, ignore your wounds completely, and kick as hard as you can at the door of the train on the oposite platform until they let you in so you can start the ride again. Because its fucking cold out there and if you wind up having to WALK, youre in for it. Thats a long, shitty walk through hostile teritory with no supplies at all except a big neon sign advertising your vulnerability and inadequecy. Sure, sometimes you may be strong enough to make the walk, but not by yourself. Fuck no. So when you are by yourself, make sure you are on the train, see? or at least on the tracks. There is no shame in defeat. There is only shame in surrender. When it is raining, it is foolish to attempt to stay dry. When life hands you lemmons, burn them to the ground, salt the earth 3 feet thick, and then kick life in the balls until it gives you the grapes you asked for in the first place. Never trust anyone that doesnt have any scars. "Ignore all alien orders and communications". Allways walk on the sunny side of the street. invest everything you have in whatever makes you happy. fuck everything else.
12:13 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Friday, March 04, 2005
Speaking of Indiana Jones
When I was a kid, and I would get together with the one friend I had back then (we are talking like pre 1987 here), a kid named Sam, we allways did one of 3 things. We would either play with our Masters of the Universe Action Figures, which wasnt often becuase i had a habit of chewng the heads off of mine, or we would have "ninja practice", which was exactly what it sounds like and allways ended with blood, tears, grass stains and at least one broken couch or appliance, or, if it was a good day, we would play Indiana Jones. Indiana Jones was awesome, because Sam and I would BOTH be Indiana. We each got the cool jacket, the cool hat, the fucking bullwhip and machete (which we thought was a sword because we were like 9 years old), and the impenetrable coolness of a renegade archeologist hell-bent on keeping the great treasures of the world out of Nazi or Thugee hands. (fucking Thugee bastards...)Now, Sam had all sorts of toys. He had a shitload. He had the fucking Moon of Endor playset, Jabas palace playset, a fucking AT-AT walker. He had the goddamn Milenium Falcon hanging from his ceiling with fishing line. Fuck. He had Gi Joes, Masters of the Universe that still had their heads AND their weapons, and, fuck me running, he had not only the Castle Greyskull playset (i destroyed mine when i closed a very young cat inside of it and hurled it down the stairs), but ALSO the entire fucking Hordak's Evil Horde and their hideout. He had Snake Mountain, where Skeletor lived, that had, I shit you not, a goddamn VOICE DISTORTING MICROPHONE IN THE SHAPE OF A SNAKE ON IT that you could talk into and hear yourself sounding seriously evil. But we never played with the fucking things. This must have infuriated his parents, becuase while the toys were left to moulder in a corner, we were bouncing off the fucking walls with our imaginary floppy brown fedoras, singing the Indiana Jones music at the top of our lungs. "Du-da-da DAH, dududa, du da da DAAAAAH, du du du duuu duuu!!!!!" Fucking ROCK ON! These are the best memories of my life. Once, in a moment of sheer inspired genious, we put Raiders of the Lost Ark, which had the previous evening been taped off "the Movie Loft", into the VCR and TAPED THE SOUNDTRACK onto a blank tape on my Fisher Price, so that we could actually HAVE THE FUCKING INDIANA JONES MUSIC AND DIALOGUE playing in the background while we ran around like lunatics, bashing each other with wifflebats (swords) and running into walls as fast as we could. God, we were fucking awesome.
10:51 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Friday, February 11, 2005
Johnson&Johnson email prank (KY Jelly)
Hello to all my friends at Johnson and Johnson. I am writing today to let you know about a disturbing experience that I had recently, that unfortunately involved one of your many products. First, let me say that I have been using your products ever since i was a baby and your "no more tears" baby shampoo perminently burned my retinas. Later, I suffered the stagering pain of my prepubescent leg hairs being torn out by your "band-Aid" brand adhesive bandages. Later still, while in High Shool, your various diferent kinds of "baby powder" did nothing to quensh my horrible daiper-rash, even when i snorted it, which cased me to wonder if it was even made from real babies. I have had many misadventures with your products, too numerous to list, and yet i have continued to remail a loyal consumer. After all, you have been keeping the world healthy and happy since 1324, or some shit. Anyway, about a week ago, i was in my local drugstore shopping for the latest exciting J&J product, when i happened upon a tube of something called "KY Jelly". I had never seen this before. "Huh, I didnt realize they were making food...when did Kentucky start making Jelly for Johnson and Johnson?" I wondered. But I knew never to look a gift horse in the mouth, as it were, so i decided to give the Kentucky Jelly a try. I figured, "hey, i like jelly, and ive never been to Kentucky, so what the fuck, right?" Wrong. Let me tell you that the Kentucky Jelly is by far the WORST tasting jelly i have ever put into my mouth. But thats not the thing that disturbed me. After retching at the awful taste and texture of the Kentucky Jelly, I spat it out and looked for the ingredients, thinking "what the flying toothless fuck is in this shit anyway?!?!?!" To my suprise, there WAS no ingredients, only "directions for use". And what did these directions say? TO APLY THE KENTUCKY JELLY TO MY GENITALS before eating it. Now I must ask you, is this some kind of sick joke? Ill have you know that its not very funny. I wanted to give you people the benefit of the doubt, and even though i couldnt see how my love-stick could possibly make the Kentucky Jelly taste any better, I tried it. Do you have any idea how dificult it is to get your own penis into your mouth? Aparently, it is completely imposible. All i suceded in doing was hyperextending several vertebre in my neck and severely laccerating my lower intestine. What the hell were you people thinking?Please send me as many free samples of Kentucky Jelly as legaly possible. Yours, The Right Rev. Mint Conklin
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
long, pointless, and not funny at all. Sorry.
A dog that hadnt eaten in 3 weeks jumped up and tore his face off. Just like that. Chimps'll do it, too. You have to be careful. You have to walk around on fucking eggshells out here or you might just walk on glass. Im five years out of that goddamn bathroom where i left the nightime chills, window sills, spoon and pills and rolled-up bills. Hey, more than that, allmost i think 6 or seven years? But the 3 before the last 2 are a mess of fog and slurring haze that no one can remember but me, and i was blacked out for most of it. I am on the verge of a fucking nervous breakdown here. Its bad enough worrying in a way that is only half-joking, and only then so that it isnt all real, about the goddamn aliens and WHAT THEY ARE DOING up there and what have they got in store for YOU as you lie in bed too terrified to open your eyes at 3 am.....but now you have other things to worry about, dogs who are dying though they arent even sick, evil swine who are driving the fucking wagon towards the cliff at 500 MPH, insane family and all-too-sane coworkers. Youve got to worry about a car you havent seen in a year, because it blew up. Youve got to worry about whats going to happen in 10 years when your brothers get a chance to be as fucked up as you are, abour whats going to happen in ? years when someone finaly notices and brings the hammer down hard on your head, right at the exact second that you remember you forgot to wear your helmet that day...Yeah but sometimes you forget to worry and those are the times that you must concentrate on. Stretch them out as long as possible and refuse to let them end because their ending means the fucking Kracken will rise up again and then you are properly fucked. But in those times, ignore everything else. Tune it out. Ride the train you are on until it slams into the platform at the other end of the line, and then crawl up out of the wreckage, ignore your wounds completely, and kick as hard as you can at the door of the train on the oposite platform until they let you in so you can start the ride again. Because its fucking cold out there and if you wind up having to WALK, youre in for it. Thats a long, shitty walk through hostile teritory with no supplies at all except a big neon sign advertising your vulnerability and inadequecy. Sure, sometimes you may be strong enough to make the walk, but not by yourself. Fuck no. So when you are by yourself, make sure you are on the train, see? or at least on the tracks. There is no shame in defeat. There is only shame in surrender. When it is raining, it is foolish to attempt to stay dry. When life hands you lemmons, burn them to the ground, salt the earth 3 feet thick, and then kick life in the balls until it gives you the grapes you asked for in the first place. Never trust anyone that doesnt have any scars. "Ignore all alien orders and communications". Allways walk on the sunny side of the street. invest everything you have in whatever makes you happy. fuck everything else.
12:13 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Friday, March 04, 2005
Speaking of Indiana Jones
When I was a kid, and I would get together with the one friend I had back then (we are talking like pre 1987 here), a kid named Sam, we allways did one of 3 things. We would either play with our Masters of the Universe Action Figures, which wasnt often becuase i had a habit of chewng the heads off of mine, or we would have "ninja practice", which was exactly what it sounds like and allways ended with blood, tears, grass stains and at least one broken couch or appliance, or, if it was a good day, we would play Indiana Jones. Indiana Jones was awesome, because Sam and I would BOTH be Indiana. We each got the cool jacket, the cool hat, the fucking bullwhip and machete (which we thought was a sword because we were like 9 years old), and the impenetrable coolness of a renegade archeologist hell-bent on keeping the great treasures of the world out of Nazi or Thugee hands. (fucking Thugee bastards...)Now, Sam had all sorts of toys. He had a shitload. He had the fucking Moon of Endor playset, Jabas palace playset, a fucking AT-AT walker. He had the goddamn Milenium Falcon hanging from his ceiling with fishing line. Fuck. He had Gi Joes, Masters of the Universe that still had their heads AND their weapons, and, fuck me running, he had not only the Castle Greyskull playset (i destroyed mine when i closed a very young cat inside of it and hurled it down the stairs), but ALSO the entire fucking Hordak's Evil Horde and their hideout. He had Snake Mountain, where Skeletor lived, that had, I shit you not, a goddamn VOICE DISTORTING MICROPHONE IN THE SHAPE OF A SNAKE ON IT that you could talk into and hear yourself sounding seriously evil. But we never played with the fucking things. This must have infuriated his parents, becuase while the toys were left to moulder in a corner, we were bouncing off the fucking walls with our imaginary floppy brown fedoras, singing the Indiana Jones music at the top of our lungs. "Du-da-da DAH, dududa, du da da DAAAAAH, du du du duuu duuu!!!!!" Fucking ROCK ON! These are the best memories of my life. Once, in a moment of sheer inspired genious, we put Raiders of the Lost Ark, which had the previous evening been taped off "the Movie Loft", into the VCR and TAPED THE SOUNDTRACK onto a blank tape on my Fisher Price, so that we could actually HAVE THE FUCKING INDIANA JONES MUSIC AND DIALOGUE playing in the background while we ran around like lunatics, bashing each other with wifflebats (swords) and running into walls as fast as we could. God, we were fucking awesome.
10:51 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment - Edit - Remove
Friday, February 11, 2005
Johnson&Johnson email prank (KY Jelly)
Hello to all my friends at Johnson and Johnson. I am writing today to let you know about a disturbing experience that I had recently, that unfortunately involved one of your many products. First, let me say that I have been using your products ever since i was a baby and your "no more tears" baby shampoo perminently burned my retinas. Later, I suffered the stagering pain of my prepubescent leg hairs being torn out by your "band-Aid" brand adhesive bandages. Later still, while in High Shool, your various diferent kinds of "baby powder" did nothing to quensh my horrible daiper-rash, even when i snorted it, which cased me to wonder if it was even made from real babies. I have had many misadventures with your products, too numerous to list, and yet i have continued to remail a loyal consumer. After all, you have been keeping the world healthy and happy since 1324, or some shit. Anyway, about a week ago, i was in my local drugstore shopping for the latest exciting J&J product, when i happened upon a tube of something called "KY Jelly". I had never seen this before. "Huh, I didnt realize they were making food...when did Kentucky start making Jelly for Johnson and Johnson?" I wondered. But I knew never to look a gift horse in the mouth, as it were, so i decided to give the Kentucky Jelly a try. I figured, "hey, i like jelly, and ive never been to Kentucky, so what the fuck, right?" Wrong. Let me tell you that the Kentucky Jelly is by far the WORST tasting jelly i have ever put into my mouth. But thats not the thing that disturbed me. After retching at the awful taste and texture of the Kentucky Jelly, I spat it out and looked for the ingredients, thinking "what the flying toothless fuck is in this shit anyway?!?!?!" To my suprise, there WAS no ingredients, only "directions for use". And what did these directions say? TO APLY THE KENTUCKY JELLY TO MY GENITALS before eating it. Now I must ask you, is this some kind of sick joke? Ill have you know that its not very funny. I wanted to give you people the benefit of the doubt, and even though i couldnt see how my love-stick could possibly make the Kentucky Jelly taste any better, I tried it. Do you have any idea how dificult it is to get your own penis into your mouth? Aparently, it is completely imposible. All i suceded in doing was hyperextending several vertebre in my neck and severely laccerating my lower intestine. What the hell were you people thinking?Please send me as many free samples of Kentucky Jelly as legaly possible. Yours, The Right Rev. Mint Conklin
and more...
Thursday, February 03, 2005
ConAgra part deux
So the other night i went to buy more pot pies. I noticed that they also sell beef pot pies, so i decided to give them a try. Let me tell you, they are disgusting. If you have ever been to Australia and tried a "meat pie", you know what i mean. Like dog food in a flaky crust. Well, true to form, i decided to let ConAgra know about their failure.Hello to all my friends at ConAgra Foods!You may recal my recent coments regarding your Banquet brand Chicken Pot Pie (CPP), the absolute best and most magical food on earth. Unfortunately, I am afraid that what i have to say today is not as encouraging. The thing is, I decided to try your Banquet brand Beef Pot Pie (BPP). I thought, hey, i love beef, i love pot, and i love pies, it stands to reason that i would love the BPP! Well, if by "love" you mean i felt as if every molecule in my body had suddenly turned into pig diareahh, then yeah, i loved it. If by "love" you mean that i stripped paint from my kitchen ceiling with torrent after torent of steaming, highly acidic vomit, then yeah, i loved it. If by "loved" you mean i have cried myself to sleep every night since, and havent even been able to get out of bed without drinking at least a liter of tanqueray, then yeah, i fucking loved it, you goddamn douchebag. Im sorry. I dont mean to be abusive. I know its not your fault that the BPP was a complete and atrocious debacle, a lump pf pure, unadulterated BADNESS that should never have been concocted, let alone marketed and eventualy unleashed on an unsuspecting public. I cant even masturbate with this lump of putrescence. Please remove it from the market as soon as possible. If i eat another one of these abominations i will surely die. Thank you. Conklin...OUT!
ConAgra part deux
So the other night i went to buy more pot pies. I noticed that they also sell beef pot pies, so i decided to give them a try. Let me tell you, they are disgusting. If you have ever been to Australia and tried a "meat pie", you know what i mean. Like dog food in a flaky crust. Well, true to form, i decided to let ConAgra know about their failure.Hello to all my friends at ConAgra Foods!You may recal my recent coments regarding your Banquet brand Chicken Pot Pie (CPP), the absolute best and most magical food on earth. Unfortunately, I am afraid that what i have to say today is not as encouraging. The thing is, I decided to try your Banquet brand Beef Pot Pie (BPP). I thought, hey, i love beef, i love pot, and i love pies, it stands to reason that i would love the BPP! Well, if by "love" you mean i felt as if every molecule in my body had suddenly turned into pig diareahh, then yeah, i loved it. If by "love" you mean that i stripped paint from my kitchen ceiling with torrent after torent of steaming, highly acidic vomit, then yeah, i loved it. If by "loved" you mean i have cried myself to sleep every night since, and havent even been able to get out of bed without drinking at least a liter of tanqueray, then yeah, i fucking loved it, you goddamn douchebag. Im sorry. I dont mean to be abusive. I know its not your fault that the BPP was a complete and atrocious debacle, a lump pf pure, unadulterated BADNESS that should never have been concocted, let alone marketed and eventualy unleashed on an unsuspecting public. I cant even masturbate with this lump of putrescence. Please remove it from the market as soon as possible. If i eat another one of these abominations i will surely die. Thank you. Conklin...OUT!
More old shit that i find awesome
I wrote this YEARS ago, but im in a dry spell right now so here you go.
Friday, February 11, 2005
the Karate Fucking Kid
I've been thinking allot today about the karate kid. The third movie was a waste of ass, but man, I have to say that the first two had a profound effect on me growing up, and still have an effect today. The original Karate Kid was released in the United States in 1984. I was seven years old. My mom took me to see it, and it literally changed my life. Up to that point, my only exposure to the mysteries of being fucking awesome came from Indiana Jones, and the Kung Fu movies that I watched with my dad on Sunday mornings. Indiana Jones was the shit, but he wasn't Mr.. fucking Miyagi. Not by a long shot. The Kung Fu movies were great, but they were totally inaccessible to my 7 year old mind. I could understand that kicking ass was awesome, but the subtleties of Asian martial arts culture eluded me, no matter how hard my dad tried to explain it to me. Not that he knew much about it beyond a basic understanding of Zen Buddhism and its relation to ass-whuppin. Then along came Mr. Fucking Miyagi. From Okinawa. He was a small, unassuming old man with a ironic sense of humor and a very thick, often unintelligible accent. He was like a human version of Yoda, but not as much of a weirdo. Miyagi was the kind of person that you make friends with right away, the first time you meet them, and that's exactly what happened with Daniel Larusso. I identified very strongly with Larusso. As a child, my family moved around quite a bit. I was often plunged into new environments with new challenges and new people who didn't like me. I went around wishing I was tougher, wishing I knew some karate. I went around wishing for my own Mr.. Fucking Miyagi. Watching Miyagi build Daniel-San up from a whiny, helpless punk into a whiny, determined ass-whuppin machine had a very deep impact on my life-view. I realized the importance of balance. I realized the importance of always waxing off what you wax on. I learned that violence is never the answer, but it helps to understand how it works, in case you are set upon in a deep fog by a bunch of Cobra-Kai bitches dressed up like skeletons.The final sequence of the first Karate Kid movie is amazing. Daniel-san, after Billy, aka Sensei Kreese's bitch, BREAKS HIS FUCKING LEG with a fucking illegal sweep to the knee, is all but forced out of the All-Valley Karate Tournament. After all, his fucking LEG IS BROKEN. He cant walk. "A man cant walk, he cant fight", right? Thats what evil-ass Sensei Kreese tells his misguided Cobra Kai bitches. Miyagi gets really worried, Daniel-San's mom is crying, his hottie girlfriend is crying, all hell is breaking loose. Daniel-San is on a fucking stretcher in the locker room with his FUCKING LEG BROKEN. Hes crying and pissing his Gi and doesn't know whether to shit or what. Miyagi, calm as you please, does some crazy Okinowan Alexander Technique shit and sets Daniel-San's leg. Daniel-San gets up, staggers back into the ring, and bows to Johnny, the Head Bitch of the Cobra Kai Dojo. Johnny is all like "what the hell, I thought you broke his fucking leg" and Sensei kreese is PISSED. He actually starts screaming "finish him Johnny! NO MERCY" or some shit. Johnny comes running up to "finish" Daniel-San, but Daniel-San pulls out the Crane Technique and fucking drops the bitch with a kick to the face. WITH A BROKEN LEG. That's when that awesome song comes on:" your the best, around, nothing in the world can drag you down" and everybody comes rushing out of the stands to carry Larusso, broken leg and all, on their shoulders because he has defeated the evil Cobra-kai and won his title a ALL-VALLEY KARATE CHAMPION. Fucking awesome. Tune in next week, when I talk about the Karate Kid pt II. Daniel and Fucking Miyagi journey to Miyagi's homeland of Okinawa, where a whole new kind of shit hits the fan....
Friday, February 11, 2005
the Karate Fucking Kid
I've been thinking allot today about the karate kid. The third movie was a waste of ass, but man, I have to say that the first two had a profound effect on me growing up, and still have an effect today. The original Karate Kid was released in the United States in 1984. I was seven years old. My mom took me to see it, and it literally changed my life. Up to that point, my only exposure to the mysteries of being fucking awesome came from Indiana Jones, and the Kung Fu movies that I watched with my dad on Sunday mornings. Indiana Jones was the shit, but he wasn't Mr.. fucking Miyagi. Not by a long shot. The Kung Fu movies were great, but they were totally inaccessible to my 7 year old mind. I could understand that kicking ass was awesome, but the subtleties of Asian martial arts culture eluded me, no matter how hard my dad tried to explain it to me. Not that he knew much about it beyond a basic understanding of Zen Buddhism and its relation to ass-whuppin. Then along came Mr. Fucking Miyagi. From Okinawa. He was a small, unassuming old man with a ironic sense of humor and a very thick, often unintelligible accent. He was like a human version of Yoda, but not as much of a weirdo. Miyagi was the kind of person that you make friends with right away, the first time you meet them, and that's exactly what happened with Daniel Larusso. I identified very strongly with Larusso. As a child, my family moved around quite a bit. I was often plunged into new environments with new challenges and new people who didn't like me. I went around wishing I was tougher, wishing I knew some karate. I went around wishing for my own Mr.. Fucking Miyagi. Watching Miyagi build Daniel-San up from a whiny, helpless punk into a whiny, determined ass-whuppin machine had a very deep impact on my life-view. I realized the importance of balance. I realized the importance of always waxing off what you wax on. I learned that violence is never the answer, but it helps to understand how it works, in case you are set upon in a deep fog by a bunch of Cobra-Kai bitches dressed up like skeletons.The final sequence of the first Karate Kid movie is amazing. Daniel-san, after Billy, aka Sensei Kreese's bitch, BREAKS HIS FUCKING LEG with a fucking illegal sweep to the knee, is all but forced out of the All-Valley Karate Tournament. After all, his fucking LEG IS BROKEN. He cant walk. "A man cant walk, he cant fight", right? Thats what evil-ass Sensei Kreese tells his misguided Cobra Kai bitches. Miyagi gets really worried, Daniel-San's mom is crying, his hottie girlfriend is crying, all hell is breaking loose. Daniel-San is on a fucking stretcher in the locker room with his FUCKING LEG BROKEN. Hes crying and pissing his Gi and doesn't know whether to shit or what. Miyagi, calm as you please, does some crazy Okinowan Alexander Technique shit and sets Daniel-San's leg. Daniel-San gets up, staggers back into the ring, and bows to Johnny, the Head Bitch of the Cobra Kai Dojo. Johnny is all like "what the hell, I thought you broke his fucking leg" and Sensei kreese is PISSED. He actually starts screaming "finish him Johnny! NO MERCY" or some shit. Johnny comes running up to "finish" Daniel-San, but Daniel-San pulls out the Crane Technique and fucking drops the bitch with a kick to the face. WITH A BROKEN LEG. That's when that awesome song comes on:" your the best, around, nothing in the world can drag you down" and everybody comes rushing out of the stands to carry Larusso, broken leg and all, on their shoulders because he has defeated the evil Cobra-kai and won his title a ALL-VALLEY KARATE CHAMPION. Fucking awesome. Tune in next week, when I talk about the Karate Kid pt II. Daniel and Fucking Miyagi journey to Miyagi's homeland of Okinawa, where a whole new kind of shit hits the fan....
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Curacao; infections, comic gold
so the little lady and i just got back from a week in curacao. six days of sun, water, rum, and 10oz Venezualen pilsners. At some point, i seem to have brushed against the dreaded Devil's Nettle, and now i have a horrible festering mess on my leg that wont go away. The good dr. gave me some antibiotic for it today, but given my distrust of antibiotics i think i will wait unitl friday to start taking it.
Now, whilst in curacao, two things happened that i thought were hilarious. First:
In Ortabanda they have a bridge that is retardedly high. It is high enough that cruise ships pass beneath it, so were talking HUNDREDS of feet here. Looks like a goddamned roller coaster. Tiny little guard rails, no median, etc. Terrifying. I didnt want to drive over it but i had to, one day. So i girded my loins, gripped the wheel in a maniacal death-squeez and drove. Of course, right when i get to the apex of this span of terror, and the sun glints off the ocean a THOUSAND MILES below, a fucking hornet flew into the car.
That would be bad enough. A man of less composure would, at that point, simply cut the wheel and drive screaming to his doom. But i am cool. I am ice. I do not falter. Instead of driving over the edge in an orgasm of frustrated fear, I started swerving madly from lane to lane, thus allowing me to swat at the hornet while still scaring the shit out of Katelyn.
The hornet, who i am convinced was graced with a sense of ironic dickishness, decided that the best response to my calculated swerving and seemingly frantic flailing, was to fly up the leg of my shorts.
With that, the impervious facade of unshakable confidence that i normaly exhibit flew out of my asshole at about mach 9. I became, in the words of one Egon Spengler, "terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought".
Try to imagine our rented pickup barreling over this bridge at about 80kph (my only thought was to get to the OTHER SIDE before the inevitable ball-stinging commenced, at which point i had no doubt i would drive this fucking truck into the nearest obstacle at top speed), swerving slighly, the passenger screaming at the driver, who appears to be punching himself in the penis with wanton fury. It must have been a sight to behold.
The good news is i didnt get stung. Somehow the little fucker (the hornet, not my penis) flew away and all was well.
The other funny thing was a resturaunt bathroom i saw. One door had a picture of a man and said "men. The other had a picture of a woman and said "women". Still another had a picture of a person in a wheelchair and said "out of order". Awesome.
Now, whilst in curacao, two things happened that i thought were hilarious. First:
In Ortabanda they have a bridge that is retardedly high. It is high enough that cruise ships pass beneath it, so were talking HUNDREDS of feet here. Looks like a goddamned roller coaster. Tiny little guard rails, no median, etc. Terrifying. I didnt want to drive over it but i had to, one day. So i girded my loins, gripped the wheel in a maniacal death-squeez and drove. Of course, right when i get to the apex of this span of terror, and the sun glints off the ocean a THOUSAND MILES below, a fucking hornet flew into the car.
That would be bad enough. A man of less composure would, at that point, simply cut the wheel and drive screaming to his doom. But i am cool. I am ice. I do not falter. Instead of driving over the edge in an orgasm of frustrated fear, I started swerving madly from lane to lane, thus allowing me to swat at the hornet while still scaring the shit out of Katelyn.
The hornet, who i am convinced was graced with a sense of ironic dickishness, decided that the best response to my calculated swerving and seemingly frantic flailing, was to fly up the leg of my shorts.
With that, the impervious facade of unshakable confidence that i normaly exhibit flew out of my asshole at about mach 9. I became, in the words of one Egon Spengler, "terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought".
Try to imagine our rented pickup barreling over this bridge at about 80kph (my only thought was to get to the OTHER SIDE before the inevitable ball-stinging commenced, at which point i had no doubt i would drive this fucking truck into the nearest obstacle at top speed), swerving slighly, the passenger screaming at the driver, who appears to be punching himself in the penis with wanton fury. It must have been a sight to behold.
The good news is i didnt get stung. Somehow the little fucker (the hornet, not my penis) flew away and all was well.
The other funny thing was a resturaunt bathroom i saw. One door had a picture of a man and said "men. The other had a picture of a woman and said "women". Still another had a picture of a person in a wheelchair and said "out of order". Awesome.
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