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December 24, 2007

A Christmas Miracle at The DMV, The Stupidest Bank Teller at The Stupidest Bank on Earth & My DMV Photographer Who Obviously Hates My Flickr Stream

Yeah, so it turns out the best day of the year to go to the DMV is Christmas Eve. The lines were short. I scored 100% on my written test. I was in and out in 10 minutes. Truly a Christmas miracle. More proof that having no respect for Jesus pays.

Also today at the Bank of America, where the lines were also non-existent, a man walked up to the teller next to mine with a bunch of ziploc bags with various amounts of loose change in each one.

"I'd like to change my daughters savings here into paper money." Said the man as his daughter held his hand with a proud look on her face.

"I'm sorry we don't take change unless it's in rolls." Said the stupidest looking teller ever born.

"Huh? Isn't this the bank? My daughter would just like to have some bills for her christmas shopping today."

"Well we just don't take coins unless they are in rolls."

"Aren't you guys the ones who PUT change into rolls? Isn't this where we GET rolls of coins?" He said as his daughter's face grew confused.

"Yes it is but we don't have the machine to count change and put it into rolls." The Stupidest Teller In The World said in a fake nice voice.

"What the mother fucking fuck?" Every single person within earshot said, some out loud, some in their head, some in sign language and one person even mouthed out the words with his 95 year old anus. The little girl turned back into a fetus, then into and egg and a sperm. The egg popped like a bubble. The sperm cracked his little tail like a whip and shot up though the ceiling leaving a hole ten feet wide. Then it snowed poop on us all for one billion years.

The bank can't count change.

The bank can't count change.

The bank can't count change.

Oh yeah, back at the DMV the little mexican driver's license photographer woman was being all flirty and nice to the two people who had their pictures taken before me.

"You look beautiful" She said to the old woman with the white hair and red clown lips as she snapped 3 or 4 photos for just the right pose.

"Chin up, chin down, gimme a handsome smile." She said to Coolio as she snapped off 10 photos, 1 for him, 9 for her wallet.

"Too much hair." She said to me as she hastily snapped one measly picture when I wasn't even ready and totally looking off to the side like an old woman was flapping her boobs off to my left.

"Can I get a do over?" I said with a smile.

"No, it's fine."


Now Alicia:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught trying to use an expired drivers license at the bank.
Your Completely Obvious Fact,

Anonymous 'Hands of Love' Wall of Voodoo is a gaywad.

Good for you Mr no respect for jesus.
I heard of some Catholic kids got the song wrong and had been singing 'hearts on fire for the love of cheeses' for the past year, how beautiful is that!
I had a similar disappointing time as you with pics -recently while getting my passport up to date the post office nazi rejected every flattering shot I submitted (on account of sidelight!) So I thought fuck it, got them to do an official post office one and it was the worst photo i have ever seen of myself. Luckily I had a night before I had to submit it, and the fella took pity and got a passable version, it's just head and shoulders but I know I was starkers out of frame.
Stick it to the man I say!


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December 21, 2007

The Victorian Mansion Neighborhood in The Gigantic Goth Bunker, Saved By The Super Sized Civic & How To Fuck the Fourth of July

There is a neighborhood down south completely filled with gigantic identical victorian mansions, like 50 of them all at least 4 stories high, 40 rooms each, crazy jagged roof lines, bay windows, turrets, covered in dark brown shingles, you know, the whole deal. Nobody knows about the neighborhood because early in the last century an eccentric billionaire covered the entire thing with a gigantic bunker to protect it from world war II which, as the story goes, he accurately predicted 20 years in advance.

Anyway, I went there yesterday, one of the few to ever be invited. I forget the billionaires name but his super pale red headed great grand daughter was the one showing me around. He certainly was paranoid about bombs, the ceiling over this gigantic structure was pure iron and cement and over three feet thick. You can tell that he was attempting to keep the bunker a little in keeping with the victorian design, well, as much as you can with bunker materials anyway. If you can imagine a structure that is one part cathedral, one part bunker, one part parking garage and one part Donald Trump Cobwebs and filled with 50 identical victorian mansions you'll get the picture.

As much I wanted to stick around and rummage through all the vacant mansions, the reason why I was in Southern Cal was that another friend of mine was purchasing a mansion of his very own and he wanted me to come and consult bout certain possible design ideas. The place was huge and prettty cool. I was really happy that he too was going for victorian/edwardian because I was really expecting him to hop on the trendy boring train and go mid century modern, yawn. So I helped him out there for a bit making it look fantastic.

Later I met up with some siblings for lunch.

"whatcha doin in southern cal?" asked my brother.

"Oh I just bought a house down here." I said.

"Really? what did you do with your house in SF?"

"Sold it." I said. "I got 7 million for it so I bought a big victorian mansion up in the hills."

Right about then I realized I was telling a big fat lie. Not sure why it didn't seem like a lie when it first started coming out of my mouth but by the time I was finished saying it I realized that A) I didn't sell my house in SF and B) I was referring to the house my friend just bought and C) I really had no interest in moving to LA.

"Well lets go check it out." said my sister.

"Uhhh, ummm, ok, except I can't remember how to get there I don't think." I wasn't lying.

"How can you not know how to get to your own house?" asked my brother.

That's when I changed the subject.

That's also when some cousins showed up driving a red honda civic that was exactly twice the size, to scale, of a regular honda civic, a homemade version at that. It was cool because it made all the people inside it look like munchkins. Too bad it also took up two lanes on the freeway and caused major traffic jams and horrible car accidents or it might be really fun to drive around more than once a week.

Also I had sex with the red haired great grand daughter girl with the really really really white skin.

She had a blue vagina.

What can I say?

I had to.

I'm patriotic.

Now Schteffie:

Schteffie - Skycam
Schteffie - Skycam

Santa Claus wants THIS for Christmas

That's all for now.
Don't get caught believing your own accidental bullshit.
Your Time Magazine's Reflex of The Year,
Pee Shivers

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December 20, 2007

The Truth Behind Michael J. Fox's Recent Bout With Squirm Disease, The Old Paper German Hotel & Then and Then and Then and Then..

Remember the Family Ties episode where Alex gets hooked on speed? Well I have writing credits on that show.

Last night I was trying to tell people this as we were watching it and everyone was accusing me of being a liar so the whole time we're watching it I told them the long story about how I met Michael J. Fox and he really was on drugs and I lectured to him about how if he kept doing drugs he'd end up with Stephen Hawkings disease (confirmed speed freak). Obviously MJ didn't take my advice and he's payin for it now, but my speech is what inspired that episode and they gave me full writing credits.

"Just wait till the end of the show you little fucks and you'll see my name in the credits as a writer." I said as my sister stood on the other side of the room smelling the placard commemorating all my great achievements.

When the end came we slowed down the TV and watched the credits and Lo and BEHOLD!!!>>>>>.......

No credit for merkley???

I was half pissed and half embarrassed until I remembered that I made up the whole story when I was a kid but I told it so many times that I actually developed a memory of it happening.

Ahhh shut up, I can hear you moaning. Before you get all high on your chihuahua about the lies of my youth, let me ask you this:

Did Michael J. Fox end up with a squirmy disease?

I rest my case.

If I say it happened,
whether it actually did or not,


Best take note.

After that I checked into an old german hotel made out of old german paper in which there was a giant sofa that made me feel like I was 10. The next door neighbor girl who has the window next to mine was there trying to make me jealous hanging out with some chump. It bugged the hell out of me that it worked, but I didn't let on, instead I went into the theater and performed an awesome impromptu play for my high school drama teacher who is my biggest fan.

Then I made a book cover out of glued pencils.
Then I won an argument with some idiot about CREDIT.
Then I got smashed up against a wall behind a big metal door.
Then I argued with the hotel staff about their no visitor policy and how it was going to destroy my play.
Then I lots of other stuffed.

Now Schteffie:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught sticking your nose quite literally in your siblings achievements.
Your Favorite Winter Olympic Memory,
Tanya Harding

Anonymous Naughty Amelia Jane is a gaywad.

I went to a gig last night and I thought you would of loved it, so I'm gunna tell you - I tried to last night but I was too sozzeled to operate the computer!
Being on summer solstice 'Hell is a Cabaret' was always going to be steamy. Starting with Glenny Rae Virus, a tre accomplished lass with country tendencies and a big blonde double bass player doing "my heart belongs to Daddy" looking like an angel with hairy legs and a piano accordion! Then a comedy physical theatre piece with lots of people balancing on other people and Cecil even played bango while in a handstand. Followed by my fave, the 'Porno Puppets of Prague' which I had a last minute role in. It is the story of Katchka, a Czech chick who is mad for it but can't get no satisfaction, after wearing out most of the men in eastern europe, she makes a deal with the devil, an orgasm in exchange for her soul, but three days later and he has no success, so Katchka becomes queen of hell. Lots of trouble ensues because all the demons and sinners are fucking instead of suffering and god is cross, and the devil has to ask the witches to help. They do- by giving the nympho a special phallus broomstick, and everyone is happy. I love lateral thinking.
Happy solstice spunky!


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December 19, 2007

Neighborly Late Night Macaroni Noises, Taking The Pillow Bridge to Sandwichville & The Multi Racial Polygamist Racists That Run General Motors

A really cute girl I have been flirting with lately moved in next door about a week ago. I never really realized how close my window is to what is now her window until she moved in. Since I already knew her before she moved in, I'm pretending that she chose that apartment largely in part due to the window placement being just inches from mine. We quickly got in the habit of leaving our windows open so that we could lay in bed and have conversations with each other. Her bed is literally like a foot from mine. It's almost like having a roommate except there is no feeling of having your personal space invaded. If I were romantic I'd describe the smell of her freshly washed hair and body breezing into my room but I'm not romantic so I will just cut to the chase.

Last night in the middle of the night we figured out that if we smashed our pillows right up against each other through the windows, it actually created a bridge strong enough to outstretch our bodies and actually share the same space. We spent a few minutes half in my house, half in hers, you know just testing out our little pillow bridge but then we figured out how easy it is for her to crawl out of her window and into mine in the middle of the night for some interesting activities that involve a little nudity and macaroni and cheese noises. So that's what we did.

She has a tattoo on her neck that smells like caramel.

After we were done on my side of the pillow bridge we crawled back through the window into her bed and she popped a porn dvd in the computer. At first I was like,"oh, ok, nothin wrong with a little late night porn." But then I realized that the girls in the porn were her and another girl that I recently photographed. It was kinda surprising but not nearly as surprising as my reaction which ranked somewhere between jealousy and a feeling of abandonment. I couldn't quite determine where my wussy reaction was coming from. Then I realized that it was because nobody invited me to the party where they made the porn. Had I BEEN invited It might've been different. She tried to tell me that they made it especially for me but I didn't believe her until she called a shiny asian roommate of hers into the room and we did sandwichy type junk til THEY both got jealous of EACH OTHER -- see how I turn that shit around? I know what the fuck I'm doing. Ok, I had nothing to do with it, bitches are territorial motherfuckers.

Not sure why, but I think I have a crush on girl I recently photographed now that I have seen her doing porn, leftover Mormon Oppression Over Correction Syndrome I bet.

Anyway, all was all interrupted when an old friend of mine from Utah showed up looking for his shiny asian cousin who lived next door on the other side. I quickly put 2 and 2 together and realized that his cousin was the baloney in the sandwich I just mentioned so I kept real quiet about it and changed the subject real quick like.

I herded my friend back into his car and he insisted that I get in it with him. I thought for sure he was gonna bust me about doing naked stuff with his shiny asian cousin but instead we just drove to the big General Motors headquarters in Oakland where his polygamist family were in charge of everything and discussing the recent news that his negro cousin was accused of murder and of course everyone was shaking their heads at the "coincidence" it was the only negro family member of the family that was ever accused of a crime and the worst part is that they all believed he did it, you know on the account of him bein negro, duh. Just kidding, How could I ascertain that info from a couple dozen wagging heads? BECAUSE ALL WHITES BELIEVE IT WHEN BLACKS ARE ACCUSED OF CRIME THAT'S WHY. Just kidding.

Now PStarr:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught saying "just kidding" after totally true shit to absolve yourself of all responsibility.
Your Favorite YouTube Search Query
Masturbating Animal

Anonymous Mim is a gaywad.

I love you and
I know it's uncool to be so upfront
and i never met you and all but it don't matter
cause when you blog it gets me going and what you dream
well it makes me love you especially when you pull flockarty rugs outa your arse
with smooth ladies and cameras so old they look like pre made steam punk


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December 18, 2007

How Yalls Be The Benefactors of My Miracle Diet, Bitch Makes One Weak Ass Whiskey Coke Slurpee & Frowny Korean Cunts Threaten Me With Kim Jong Illness

I've already bragged to alls yalls about how I lost 350 lbs in three months by completely eliminating oxygen from my diet but since most of yalls don't live here in the great gay mecca, yalls don't get to see how the fine citizens of SF are the true benefactors of my miracle weightloss. How are THEY the benefactors yalls ask? Well, ever since the drop, I , of course, never pass an opportunity to take my shirt off and by opportunity I mean any situation involving the public aka yalls at large. Yalls would too if YALLS waist was only 16 inches and yalls pectoral muscles rippled and twitched even at rest.


So yeah, last night I shitrlessly waited around for stuff to happen. I waited at bars, I waited in waiting rooms full of snakes, I waited in hotel rooms with bad lighting, I even waited around on a park bench. Save an old friend ignoring me at the bar where she has recently become bartender, nothing happend. Ok so she didn't ignore me completely but she was totally blowing me off and not taking my drink order. So what if I was busy shirtlessly reading and refusing to make eye contact, she is my friend, she should have brought me my favorite drink without even having to ask. When she did finally bring my drink, although her sentiment was apologetic and worth the waity, I didn't really want an entire pitcher of weak whiskey Coke Slurpee. NO TIP FOR HER.

Later in the day I was invited to an old friend's old roommate's new illegal apartment. I had to snek through 5 million backyards to get there and in every one of those 5 million back yards were 10 korean ladies with frownlines ten inches deep just waiting to take my picture and report me to the housing board even though I WAS JUST ATTEMPTING TO VISIT SOMEONE I DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO VISIT!!, MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS KOREA!!

Anyway once we finally got there I taught her some of my 3d paint texturing methods and we turned her crappy little back yard hut into the fricken TAJ MAJAL. good thing a bunch of diaper sporting muslims didn't get all bow downy in the back yard. They all stink like pizza shops. Not that that's bad, just makin conversation. Why don't you just relax?

I forgot to mention that for the entire day my old Navajo pal from high school followed me around with his expensive digital video camera. He dropped the camera at least 10 times. Don't think he was cut out for show biz.

Now PStarr:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught singing "You be Kim Jong Illin" to old frowny Korean bitches who don't like RUN DMC on account of straight up RACISM.
Your Favorite Saintly Collectors of Starving Brown Kids,
Brad & Ang

Anonymous Anonymous is a gaywad.

Do you do requests?
If so i'm after 'Merkley with his shirt off, feigning disdain at the coke slurpy that he knows he really wants'
ps the boys were stoopid, but PStar is canny!
pps i bought the book forever ago, so shut up already


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December 15, 2007

The Tiniest Camper Ride, Gayin It Up For The Passive Aggresso Closet Homo Director & It's Not The Actual Poopstain That Bugged Me But The PRINCIPLE!!!

I took a ride in the smallest camper on earth. My feet were sticking out the back and my face was smashed up against the front window. My friend was riding with me and his bony elbow was stabbing the crap out of me. That's the last time I'm gonna agree to that kind of bullcrud. I'm riding up front from now on.

When we got to the flea market I realized that once again my fucking shoes were gone. I'm thinking about seeing a therapist about this. For all I know I have some kind of unknown mental disorder that causes me to abandon my shoes without realizing it.

Anyway, luckily we were at the flea market and there were plenty of shoes around although none of them were totally RAD like I like.

I bargained with a fat old woman about a huge furry yellow rug. She claimed it was on layaway and that I had to be a member of a certain family lineage to qualify to buy it so I played some Jedi mind tricks on her and bought it for half price.

I hated Star Wars by the way and I regret using that "jedi" reference above but I'm not gonna go back and change it now that I have spent 20 seconds typing the current sentence. Yeah, 20 seconds, you heard me. I never learned how to type, two fingers fuckers -- deal.

Later on at the read-through for the new movie I'm in, the director/writer seemed like he really wasn't digging the way I was delivering my lines. Rather than communicating to me what he was after, he just passively aggressively shifted in his seat and twisted his fingers. I took a second and looked at him up and down and determined that he was a closeted homo so even though nothing about the script suggested that my character was gay I decided to give it a 100% Paul Lynde meets Charles Nelson Riley spin and lo and behold a gigantic smile flopped off his head. Then I chased him around doing my best gay run, you know, way over doing it like a show off.

"Come-ere YOU QUEEN, why didn't you tell me you wawnted me to be a hoe-moe, I'm gowna pich yo butt." I yelled.

I just realized I sounded like whatzername from The Carrol Burnett Show who spun off and did Mammas Family, umm I think Mamma was her name.

Or maybe it was Gomer Pile, anyway, it was OLD SCHOOL homo for sure.

Anyway my fag impersonation was a big hit and from then on I was the hero of the set. I admit that I maybe let it go to my head a little because I started bossing everyone around telling them how to do their jobs including the special effects dudes who couldn't make a convincing flying smoke ball to save their dicks. It's not like I was just arguing to argue, I'm just extremely annoyed with incompetence. My two best friends from high school were there and being the suckups they are, refused to back me up, hoping somehow their yes-man-ness would somehow magically advance their acting careers. Of course suckups never get where they wanna go unless where they wanna go is Douchebag Film Directors Lower Bowels Land.

Which ain't a bad vacation spot in all truthfulness, well that's what gay penises tell me anyway.

I know you're sitting there thinking that I was probably being unreasonable on the movie set but that's because you don't know that one of my biggest complaints was with the wardrobe department that expected me to wear a wet costume complete with a clearly visible 9 inch long poop stain on the ass flap. SEE? Don't jump the gun with your judgments. You don't know me.

I'm still in character a little bit. That's dedication.


Now Bess:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught giving the closet gay director a slow wedgy to prove you ain't bothered by his homocity.
Your Gay Run Champion
Ronald RayGun

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December 13, 2007

The Swampy Southern California Money Garden, A Pickle Bottle Of Money For a Shithouse in a Glass Box & Barry Bonds' Bionic Butthole

Went to Southern California to visit a friend yesterday. He bought a new house and boy oh boy was it ever a doozie. Generally I am unimpressed when people go nuts spending millions of dollars on more and more stuff, increasing the size of their homes by building additions and tennis courts and such, but my friend really took the time to WASTE his money, and by that I mean by spending it on completely ridiculous things such as a money garden. Of course the money garden would be great if it actually grew money but that would require magic and magic doesn't exist now does it? No this was merely a garden made out of folded and glued hundred dollar bills, a couple million dollars worth at least. At first I wanted to take the line of thinking that he could have done something better with the money, like maybe buying a new fake leg for a gimp, but then again I liked the idea that he was really putting on display how unimportant money really is. After all it's just paper.

He also had a rotating bedroom, a bunch of fake caves and 15 or 20 family members living in huts around the property. None of it was really aesthetically pleasing but hey, can't blame a guy for trying.

the other thing interesting was that his huge mutli-million dollar estate was smack dab in the middle of one of the shittiest poorly kept neighborhoods I have ever seen. I always thought southern Cal was a desert but this neighborhood was covered with all kinds of mold and moss. Nobody had painted their houses in decades at least. The whole thing was in a state of decay.

"You know, that house would be perfect for a project I have wanted to do since I was a kid." I said to him as I pointed out a particularly decrepit mid-sized house with missing windows and shingles.

"Yeah what project is that?" he asked.

"I have always wanted to take an old house like that and build a green house, about twice the size of the original house, around it, you know to encase the house so that it never needs paint again, it just gets preserved just like it is, like putting it in a bottle. It would also be cool to build a quonset hut around it too but then nobody could see what an awesome idea it is."

"Well you should buy it. Those people are assholes."

"If I had to execute every idea I ever had I'd never have time to think of new ideas, why don't YOU buy it and do my idea."

"OK I will."

Then we went and he bought the house with a big pickle bottle full of money. I don't need no big projects.

I think ALL athletes should take steroids as much as they want. I think sports should be about freaks. I propose more drugs, more bionics and even weaponry be added to the list of things encouraged in sports. Bring on the freakshow is what I say. Boxing would be so much cooler if the audience could throw rocks and the blow torches were mandatory. Blow torches now are optional. That's lame.

Oh yeah, there was a dead person floating in my friends pool, I was gonna say something to him about it but I didn't want to be rude.

Now Heather:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught trying to steal the fake wifi frogs from the real swamp.
Your Never Ending Boring Gay Joke,
Ryan Seacrest

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Judging By The Douche Riding It, It Might Have Been A Bidet Motorcycle, Drunk In Sunday School & Stretchy Nipples and Orphans on Good Morning America

I saw a motorcycle yesterday that looked like a toilet, not like a funny toilet joke bike, but kind of an accidental toilet. I suppose most of it was because it was all white, and you know how new crotch rocket style bikes are all smooth and lumpy, you know, kinda like the profile of your toilet bowl, well this one just went a little further. It's not a really bad idea really. Toilets are useful. But I did want to flush it. The douchebag riding it probably didn't think it looked like a toilet. He looked like he thought it was really cooool.

I sometimes go back to church to kinda fuck with the system, you know, cuz churches aren't really too adept at kicking people out that want to come especially if they are like me and pretend that they really want to be there. Seems like a lot of people go to church for that reason these days. As they were holding elections for the new sunday school president, a bunch of us hooligans hung out in the back taking swigs out of our flasks as we mocked the elections and basically just threw in a wrench wherever we thought there needed to be one. The woman in charge, who was unfortunately not all too different in appearance from The Church Lady was getting impatient with us but you could see that she believed that the lord was testing her so she grinned and bore it whenever we fucked with her.

The new church organs have all kinds of cool beats and vintage synth sounds. I created some pretty sick jams. The congregation pretended not to like them but I know in their head they were thinking "Ah yeah, dis is da SHIT rightch hurr!". White people think with bad black voice when they hear sick beats. It's a fact.

Later on a super coked out girl wearing a transparent bikini was trying to get me to have sex with her but her coked outness was really unattractive, plus we were standing around with a bunch of orphans that Meredith Viera was interviewing for Good Morning America. Well, actually, that's the part that made me consider doing it because how cool would that be for america to see early in the morning, let alone the orphans.

Anyway she had super stretchy nipples, like gum almost.

Oh yeah, I lost my shoes again and it wasn't because I was drunk. I think someone is stealing them.

I'm going to pee on a motorcycle now.

Now Heather & Bess:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught singing to orphans about transparent underpants even though the words "transparent underpants" sound so musical together.
Your Third Favorite Cast Member of Friends,

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December 11, 2007

My Big Scene With Richard Dreyfuss, The Broccoli Snail Moss Cave & Mr. Archibald's Unwelcome Attention to My Pants

I haven't really talked about it but I've been cast as the lead awesome dude in a big hollywood movie. I forget to show up to the set half the time. That's a lie, I just have an aversion to obligation so I pretend to forget.

Last night we were shooting my scene with Richard Dreyfuss, I haven't read the script because hollywood movies are so predictable that as soon as any other actor says his line all I have to do is say what line I think would come next only more cryptic delayed response style and the director thinks I'm some kind of Robin Williams genius. So anyway, yeah, the elevator shaft scene: Bad guy falls down an elevator shaft. SHOCKING, The only thing is, and I probably shouldn't tell you this, but the stunt man died. But that's what they get paid for.


So yeah, I was saying, my scene with Dreyfuss required me yelling at him using all kinds of insults. Of course it was easy for me because I have always considered him to be extremely annoying and weasley so I just let loose and his veins popped out of his forehead and his face turned red just like he was constantly in What About Bob and so I made fun of his veins and squeaky voice and then I could see that he was actually getting mad for real so I got even more insulting because he is really super short and I thought how cool it would be to drive him to the point of violence.

Anyway, he didn't punch me like I hoped. What a wuss.

Nearby there were some caves that I decided to explore. The walls were covered with a type of green moss that would recoil like like a snails antennae if you got too near. Kinda like broccoli meets -- uh, snail antennae. The interesting part of this moss/mold type substance was that, upon entering the cave it would immediately start sprouting from one's very own hair follicles. Did I mention the cave had a giant moving sidewalk in it? Yeah, kinda touristy, but anyway it was very entertaining watching everyones hair turn into broccoli snail afros. Pubes too. People take their clothes off in the cave because broccoli pubes are fun to see. Admit it.

BTW, if I was a kid who wanted to express my dislike for broccoli to my mother in one word I would simply pronounce it the same way as the deadly disease e-coli: broc-coli and then I might really over do the "broc" part, like "BRAAAAHHWWWK", like a barf sound. But I love broccoli, always have, that's why I leave my jokes here for YOU to use.

Speaking of barf sounds, I made a visit back to my old high school math class. Mr. Archibald was still the teacher, he still looked like a dinosaur bird and he still thought he was funny. This time though I wasn't just some kid, I was a movie star so he was all trying to be nice to me. He brought a whole handful of pens over to my desk.

"Oh you crazy Mr. Archibald, you always did like to overdo it in the pen department." I laughed as I hollywood charm insulted him.

"I see you brought a snack" He said as he was looking down at my crotch area.

I looked down to see if I had left my zipper open, I always suspected Archibald was homo and his comment really grossed me out. But then I noticed he was just acknowledging the bottle of Jim Beam poking out of my pocket.

Still, I don't want Mr. Archibald looking at my pockets. He's even more weasely than Richard Dreyfuss.

In other news, my dad designed his own personal logo shaped like a dragon fly. I told him it was gay and should abandon it immediately. We are honest with things like that, dad and I.

Now Heather:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught pouring melty cheese all over everyone in the broccoli cave.
Your Loving Mother,

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A Dingleberry on a Sheep Dog's Butt, My Multi-Billion Dollar TV Game Show Deal & Work Your Way OUT of The Mail Room DUDE

I was invited to watch the taping of a new MTV5 program for bands in which all the members are total douchebag 40 something types who never even came close to making it but still cling to the dream like a dingleberry on a sheep dogs butt.

I shouldn't have been surprised when the lead singer of the opening act was the lead singer of my old band from Provo. But I was surprised, not because he was a dingleberry on a sheep dogs butt, but because he wasn't fat and bald anymore, instead he was a fairly in shape Mexican dood who seemed delighted to see me there off in the wings, like I came to see HIM.

"Ha, there's merkley, standin in the wings while I'm up here in the spotlight. Boy I'm sure showin him up. Who's the man NOW huh merkley???" He thought in his head.

"Holy shit, it's bad enough that you accepted the offer to be on a show mocking your very type but the fact that you got spray tanned and had lipo is down right SAD" I thought in my head.

Then we both gave both gave a thumbs up nod to each other.

After the show I pitched my idea for a new reality based game show set in an african village in which overweight american celebrity contestants pick one of 25 numbered gunny sacks held by famine stricken african aids victims, one of which contains an egg salad sandwich, the rest contain anything ranging from a cup of rice to monkey droppings, to a handful of dirt. The fat celebrity contestant gambles away all the other gunnysacks hoping the town's only sandwich is in the one he chose. The famine aids people get to fight over the contents of every gunnysack he gambles away so they are all bad vibing him to not get the sandwich. It's hosted by Richard Simmons. It's kinda like Survivor meets biggest loser meets Howie Mandell and it's called Meal or No Meal.

Bono will sing the theme song.

Of course they offered a contract on the spot so long as the famine stricken aids victims I end up casting are also HOT.

That's fair.

Of course before I signed, I made my way down to the mail room to fed ex the agreement to my lawyer and who do you think was down there holdin court? None other than my old lead singer. It seems he took the phrase "working your way up from the mail room" a little too literally.

Anyway, seems he was in charge down there.

I stood there for a second waiting for my old friend the mail room boss to assert his way out of one of his co-worker's never ending drones so I could fed ex my multi million dollar TV show deal to Jerry Spence. From experience I knew assertion would never ever happen in one billion years. There is a good reason he was workin the mail room. No offense to mail room people.

"Hey boss man pal, how bout growin some nutts and asserting yourself out of the most boring story ever told and mailing my package?" I tossed my envelope and he fumbly caught it."

"Fuck, merkley wasn't supposed to see me in the mail room." He thought.

Then I went and had a sandwich and thought about how awesome my show is gonna be.

Now Dominique:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught NOT saving african villages by NOT bringing water bottley hollywood people to town.
Your Humane Ambassador To Everywhere,
Extreme Makeover African Village Edition

Anonymous fuckwad is a gaywad.

Dominique rocks as much as your tv idea sucks, which is heaps!


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December 08, 2007

Not Felting With The Arrogant Prick Fur Traders, My Axe Incident With Chief HeadLikeFourBurgers & "Massausageā„¢", I Invented IT

As cool as fur traders seem to be from a distance, they are a bunch of arrogant pricks close up. Trust me, I spent a bunch of time with some of them last night. It might seem cool to live in shitty conditions just sittin round killing animals and ripping off their furbags, I mean , yeah, SEEMS cool, but when you are actually hanging out tryin to make jokes, you realize that they are all a bunch of arrogant pricks. Did I say all that twice? GOOD.

All I wanted to do was a little felting. If you don't know what that is, it's where you take a handful of fur and basically rub is all together to make the fibers get all tangled together ultimately creating felt. It ain't easy, I used to felt the hair my dogs and cats shed, it's kinda therapeutic. Well these arrogant pricks from last night wouldn't give up any of the fur scraps, It's not like I was asking for a PELT, I was asking for fucking fur that was useless, HAIR. They were all arrogant pricks. Close up that is.

They sure did have a lot of raccoons. Some were pets, most were piled up dead.

Luckily I had an appointment to introduce a local celebrity in the little town square. Unluckily I couldn't find my shoes or pants. The arrogant pricks all made suggestions about what I should do, pointing out all kinds of lame pants and stupid sport shoes with pumps and zippers all over the fuck and . I wasn't about to get onstage with no fur trader hip hop gear Knowwhudmsayn? Feelmeh?

Yeah, so I skipped out on the intro and didn't leave the fur shack until the town square emptied out. It was almost dark. I grabbed the nearest fur trench coat and stepped out into the dusk. I was dressed one part homeless, one part pimp, one part crazy and four or five parts flasher. Whatever, the dirt streets were empty.

A big station wagon pulled up about 100 feet in front of me and a big tall homeless looking indian fella with a big scar the size of four half cooked hamburger patties on his face crawled out. He went around to the back and pulled out an old stainless steel sink deal that looked like it came out of a fancy restaurant. He carried it over and just plopped it down in front of the house where all the Arrogant Prick Fur Traders lived. He was trying to get rid of it. I wanted it, but instead of playing cool til he left, something, probably having to do with my outfit, caused me to do exactly the opposite of smart.

"Uh, excuse me, you can't leave that there, the dudes in that house are friends of mine and they hate it when people just dump their shit." I lied, not minding nearly enough of my own business.

The hamburger faced indian turned to me and stared at me for a second like I had just told him his mom looks like Bob Hope.

Then I noticed he was holding an axe.

Not just any axe, the big crazy kind you see warriors in comic books swinging around. Where do gigantic indian people get those axes anyway?

I regretted saying anything.

He began to walk towards me, obviously wanting to chop off a chunk of my head, which is what you KNOW would happen, there is no way he wouldda just made a clean swipe and lopped off my head, of COURSE just a chunk of head would come out first and fall in the dirt and then I'd have to pick it up and rinse the dirt off in the gutter. I hate unskilled hamburger faced murdering indians. I mean COME ON, learn how to use an axe.

Back to the story. So I decided to go down the road for about 2 seconds but then I realized it was a dead end. I was doing my best to keep calm and not acknowledge that he was about to take chunks out of my skull, I even considered playing dead for a second but then I remembered that he was a human being and not a moose.

This is the part where I started regretting not putting on some of the Arrogant Prick Fur Trader's hip hop sneakers.

But even then, I knew that if I ran he would probably run faster and was probably looking forward to the chase. It was obvious by the four hamburger scar that he was not new to axe fights.

So what did I do? I faked him out, I looked left then went right. He let the axe fly and it went in the wrong direction, hit a wall and did and oh so unfortunate (for him) bounce up onto the roof.

"HA HA "Navajo" (air quotes), more like Nava"NO!" (gigantic air quotes).

Then I sped walked like a fag right on down the road cuz axe or not, Chief Head Like Four Burgers looked like a biter.

! did my best to hail a cab.

Barefoot in a fur trenchcoat ain't the best outfit for cab catchery. I should have listened to the Arrogant Pricks.

Later on I massaged a naked woman's entire body and since I was massaging, all I could think about was how much humans and sausages have in common, Then I realized massage and sausage are basically the same word. Then I invented the technique called Massausageā„¢. Remind me to write that down. HUGE.

Now I'm hungry.

Now Bess:
That's all for now.
Don't get caught stereotyping even ONE native american as an incompetent scalper.
Your Really Really Important Business at Hand,
Barry Bonds

Anonymous face off is a gaywad.

Barry Commando would be more like it!
You're right, it's almost always a fine time for sausage, girl style or normal. Too bad you didn't find any good duds, but running barefoot is so quintessentially liberating except you have soft city boy feet that can't handle a decent bush bash... ha, ha. I could introduce you to women who run workshops on felting footwear, then you'd be right. ...If only you'd be my friend.


Anonymous PS is a gaywad.

loving Bess's arty craft look, that's so hot right now.


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December 07, 2007

The Full Contact Semi-Aquatic Photo Contest, The Mental Consequences of Contrarian Pottymouthery & ShoreGazing w/ High Power Eyeballs

There was a photo contest down by the loading docks. I generally turn my nose up at such nuttsacky behavior but people were jeering me on to enter. this wasn't any photo contest, this photo contest had actual merit, like as a sport, the idea was that whoever was most entertaining while making a photo would win. Well i needn't tell you that I basically had this one in the bag, I couldda won this thing with both beards tied behind my back.

Anyway, I naturally set up near the aquarium where the giant squid was begging to have his tentacles photographed doing all kinds of horny stuff to the electric eel. trouble was that my flash was reflecting off the glass, plus lots of people started crowding around hoping somebody would take off their clothes. I left my fly unzipped just so they wouldn't be all disappointed.

After a few shots my flash ran out of batteries and some young fella watching said:

"No prob dooood, you got an electric eel right there."

I i got up and walked over to the young man and grabbed him by the face, did some semi-violent squishing, you know, like "ah how cute" but really I was trying to crush his face bones for being loudly not funny. Then I loud whispered in his ear:

"Go get me an ice cream cone or I will kill your whole family.... just kidding, Still, go get me an ice cream."

Then he ran off and brought me back a slurpee which wasn't what I ordered so I gave him the look that only a badger gives to a mouse when the mouse brings back a lime soda instead of badger food. You know the look.

Next the crowd all tried to group pressure me into taking pictures of everyone on a giant sofa. I considered asking everyone to take off their clothes and maybe doing it but then I was over come with a tidal wave of FUCKYOUNESS and said:

Why don't you all instead cram pickles up your rears and I'll call the TV NEWS!!"

BTW I hate it when I accidentally say "up your rears" because it sounds like I am saying up your EARS because you can't just stop an R dead in it's tracks and then I end up not making any sense at all, that is until I inevitably envision an ear shaped butthole, which leads to the vision of a poop coming out of an ear or someone screaming into a butthole and then I get stuck in HEY, WRONG HOLE!!-VILLE for a half an hour.

Can Punctuation go in the middle of a hyphenated word?

Yes it can.

Anyway, I'm sure by now you have guessed that I bailed on the photo contest and instead went out to the coast and looked at all the skyscrapers poking out over the horizon in all the distant lands across the ocean. I have 20/20 vision you know.

"Huge sofa", I shouldda lit all them dicks on fire.

Now Amy:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught trying to give a one handed indian burn to your thing.
Your First REAL Lover That You Actually Loved Back,
Father O'Flannery

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December 04, 2007

The Speedy Crosswalk Othodox Greek Hour, Prince's New Job on Monday Night Football & Merkley???'s Dance Contest Tip # 5,678

I don't like the sun. I already told you this, it mugs me and steals my wallet, kicks me in the balls, pokes out my eyes and gives me indian burns all over my entire body. Squinting, yeah, that's a BLAST.

Anyway I was running around in the sun yesterday doing all kinds of errands. Did I mention that I also hate errands? Well I do, I even hate that word and when people use it I claw their face and with my fingers in their gums and eyelids I tell them to "say it like it is" for once, but then I don't know another a better word to use than errands and I claw my own face all rage style.

So yeah, errands, I was running them, literally, I was running as fast as I could to catch the green at the crosswalk because I also hate standing at an intersection like some vulture shaped old woman waiting for my turn to chicken myself across the road to get to the other side. Point is, I'm like lightning, I run as fast as a car, people look out their windows as they are driving and they point at me because they are impressed with my "faster than a car-ness". We point at fast stuff because we like the breeze our finger makes at it rushes over the horizon. Ok maybe not.

I came across a Greek Orthodox church that was having a festival of sorts, everyone was wearing silly religious scarves and hats as they all celebrated the music and dance that nobody else likes. I grabbed a couple of the miniature leaf flavored ice cream cones,(why does cultural food always taste like a leaf?) listened to one of the Greek speakers telling a bunch of inside jokes that the other Greeks pretended were hilarious but from what I could tell the speaker was a charity case and was probably the nephew of the dude who brought the pile of rotating meat which was why he was cool. I had major gas btw.

Next I searched for a magazine stand because it's fun to see my photos in glossy magazines and even more fun to thumb through at a magazine stand where someone might be thumbing through the same magazine and I can wait for them to gasp upon seeing one of my photos: "My this is a beautiful photograph." they might say if they weren't so selfish and inconsiderate not even noticing me standing there. FUCKERS. Actually, if they noticed me and then said it, that would be even lamer. SUCKUPS.

At the library I almost walked out of a floor to ceiling window that was wide open, at the last moment I noticed I was three stories in the air. Who the fuck builds a floor to ceiling window three stories in the air and leaves it wide open with no railing or nothin? I'll tell you who, people who embrace natural selection, that's who, good for them, I'm glad I passed the test.

Later that night I crashed at a friends place, as usual with my friends, the accommodations were crap, the floor was wet and slimy and the bed was low to the ground. I found a bunch of old bed spreads and began cutting them up and laying them on the cold ground to sop up some of the gunk while I listened to Prince doing Monday Night Football play by play over the intercom. One might think Prince would be a bad choice for sports announcer but thats before you hear him scream "Oooooowwwwuh!" whenever someone does something cool.

Two football references in a row. What do I win?

At the dance contest I tried to find a nice out of the way corner in which to bust my sick moves, out of the way because it's much more impressive when the ladies rush off to the corner to watch you hammer timing the world than being forced to watch the sad sack douchebags trying to crowd in on the spotlight with their wack moves in the middle of the floor. I make them come to me because I am 100 years old and wise as fuck.

Now Heather B.:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught crop dusting somebody else's culture.
Your Corn Field Dance Floor Construction Foreman,
Kevin Costner's Polynesian Friend

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December 02, 2007

Shirtless Avoids The Corporate Slave Ships, "Short and Tan" Ponchito's Obviously Gay Football & The Pork Chop Bone is Mightier Than The Pork Chop Bone

A friend of mine requested my company at her place of business, a totally corporate joint with cubicles and walls covered in that purpleish gray fabric that corporate dullards think makes the environment nice and homey when it really just makes it like a dentists office which is the same as the pits of hell only worse. Even as a visitor to that environment I felt all kinds of anxiety, some of which was worrying that other people would mistake me as an employee and somehow I would get tied and bound with scotch tape, tarred and feathered with glue sticks and post-it notes and finally stapled to an ergonomic chair as some kind of actual corporate slave. That's how it happens right? Anyway, to make it very clear that I wasn't part of the system I decided to go shirtless because extreme times call for extreme measures. Shirtless AIN'T Corporate.

I went to the copy room to, duh, make xerox copies of my balls etc, and through the crack in the door I see this woman with whom I had once had the sex, I made a quick move to hide cuz I didn't want her to see me there, shirtless or not, I just don't want any hot girl ever mistaking me for someone who has a job. That could wreck everything. Well I wasn't fast enough, she spotted me and slithered into the room.

"merkley what are you doing here?"

"Making copies of my balls. What are YOU doing here?"

"I just came in to help my friend Ponchito."

"You mean that Mexican homo in the office behind you?"

"He's not gay, just short, and not Mexican, just tan."

I always do my best to insult the appearance of any man who seems to be movin' in on one of my girls -- you know how it goes. A man must pee on his stuff.

"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

"It's casual friday."

"Oh." she said as she removed her own shirt.

Then I played with her boobs for ten minutes.

"Say hi to Ponchito I said as I put on my shirt. Ponchito was standing right there but it's fun to pretend that people are Mexican and can't understand english.

I folded up the copies of my balls and put them in my pocket and went outside. Guess who was out there. Yeah, Ponchito and the girl, They must have run outside to beat me. The girl kept looking at me like either she wasn't finished or she was trying to make me jealous by tossing around a football with Ponchito. Of course she was making me jealous but one can't let on to such things and I really didn't want to toss around the football with them and I sensed that was exactly what was about to be suggested as I was walking just the right speed for Ponchito to pass the ball to me right before I stepped into the end zone. Last thing I wanted was some sort of victory celebration with pee wee Ponchito, but at the same time I was worried that if I didn't keep my eye on him and the ball that maybe he'd throw it anyway and I didn't want to get hit in the back of the head. All that lead up to a self fulfilling prophecy because not a second later:

"Merkley, go long" Ponchito said as he lobbed me a wobbler.

I sped up my pace just a bit and caught the the ball with an apparent complete lack of effort which was a relief cuz how embarrassing would it be to be caught even appearing to give one fuck about sports?

"Why is this ball all long and squishy? Is this some kind of gay football? Why is it sparkley gold?" I yelled as I passed it back.

Ponchito shrugged like he had no clue what I was talking about. I turned to the girl and used my hand to shield the side of my face Ponchito could see and I mouthed out the words: "He's not just "short"." -- Yeah, I did air quotes even.

Later I used a pork chop bone to scratch a mean note into the paint of a car I didn't like. Pork chop bones can also be used for eye gouging FYI.

Now Heather:

Thats all for now.
Don't get caught appearing to give even a smidge of one fuck about sports.
Your Important Point Repeater,
Non-Fuck Giverbout Sports

Anonymous lismore lass is a gaywad.

My tasty after work snack of Merk
Was never so petty & filled with smirk
Till he took umbrage with sports
and caused violence with pork
luckly for him I have a penchant for quirk


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