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tune du jour:
"why i'm here"
by oleander
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Thursday, July 12
i am declaring this national clean out ur navel week. all too often, we don't spend enough time cleansing our navels. this goes far beyond a personal hygiene issue. a dirty navel is the underbelly of nasty and i don't mean that in a ms. jackson sort of way. conversely, a clean navel is a godly navel. everyone should wash their navels on a regular basis. and with a renewed vigor, starting today. not the typical swoosh of the soapy washcloth and i'm done, either. go get a couple of q-tips, a bottle of rubbing alcohol and really hunker down in there. make like the great archaeologists of the 20th century and set up ur own umbilical dig. no one rests until lint fossils have been unearthed! red, raw and lickable are the three attributes we seek.
i will now begin to whistle "back on the chain gang" by the pretenders to motivate u.
posted by cp at 12:25 AM
Wednesday, July 11
my friend paul and i went to eat at pancho's tonight. it's this all-u-can-eat mexican buffet joint that gives me hella gas every time i eat there. but the food is yum and cheap, so i don't mind too much. more bang for ur buck, ha! anyway, paul being the finicky bitch that he is just got a few tacos, while i loaded up. so i'm slamming chile rellenos with cheese sauce and mr. pibb and i look over and omfg u shoulda seen the gayness my eyes beheld. there was this androgynous waiter/waitress looking shim strutting around from table asking ppl how everything was and stuff. i almost choked! i was laughing so hard at paul's facial expression when he saw it and also trying to finish a mouth full of food. this um, whatever, looked like jon lovitz when he plays that gay character and makes his eyes all saucer wide in disgust. except this wasn't disgust, cause the big cheshire cat smile was there, too! lmao, and the hair was all poofy like he/she had just spent all day sitting in one of those salon dryer chairs, trying like the dickens to make it perfecto. not unlike a werewolf drinking a pina colada at trader vick's. warren zevon, wtg me. so, naturally, i raise the little mexican flag on our table immediately. it's how u get service at pancho's. i am about to fucking die when this man tittied beast saunters over to our table and starts talking. i'm dabbing at my eyes with the warm sopapillas and shit. and all i could manage to ask for was a refill on my drink. so i wound up getting my drink. i guess this story doesn't really have much of a moral or anything. i just thought it was funny as shit at the time, staring at this fucking situation in an apron. i swear, i felt like rolling around in the booth and flapping my arms like arsenio hall, i was laughing so hard.
so after dinner, we stopped by lowe's cause i needed a toggle switch for my scanner. it plugs directly into my surge protector, like everything else, but for some reason mustek didn't think it was necessary to provide a power switch on the scanner itself, so it always stays on. unless i disconnect the cord. which is a pain in the ass, hence the purchase. lol, when i was typing "surge protector", i thought of bronson pinchot, which made me think about that pancho's freak again. omg, i can't stop thinking about him/her! i turned on the lights, the tv and the radioooo .. still i can't escape the ghost of uuuuu. duran duran, wtg me. so where was i? oh yah, so we're at lowe's and i see this chick i usedta go to elementary school with. u ever run into somebody u haven't seen in years and immediately know who they are, but u still have that self quest for validation? like turning the newspaper upside down to get the answers to the jumble puzzle before u finish. except i think that's called cheating. anyway, i'm like fake shelf browsing all around this chick, trying to get a good angle on her name badge. and she doesn't have a ring on and i'm thinking "oh shit, this is her" and continuing to fiddle with the pvc pipes, when she turns to me and asks me if she can help me. and i see her name badge, plain as day. BONNIE. bam, i was so right! so i'm like "nah, i'm just looking, thanks tho." and she goes "ok, well if there's anything i can help u with, just let me know", smiles and walks off. and i'm like vinnie barbarino rolling my eyes at the whole "what she could help me with" thought process. but, at the same time, to myself i'm all wtf? i mean, why is it that i recognize somebody at a glance, but i'm the silhouette in the group photo with the riddler question mark on it? i felt stupid. i felt like chasing her down and grabbing her arm.
"yanno, on second thought, maybe there is something u can help me with. can u tell me who this person is?" -makes L7 frame around face with fingers. "here's a hint. his name is erik, he was in mrs. hufnagel's third grade reading class with u, back in 1976. he was the dork with the lefty scissors and the bicentennial cigar box. and the midnight blue sears tuffskins with the reinforced knees. he prolly walked past ur desk a gazillion times a day on the way to the pencil sharpener." -frustration sets in. "ok, what's this shrug shit?! for christ's sake, bonnie, he sang 'a tisket, a tasket, a green and yellow basket' with u! we wrote a letter to our moms, but on the way we dropped it! read my lips .. mysterious wisteria. omg, tell me ur celine dion and it's all coming back to u now, before i'm forced to shake u violently!"
i didn't even bother tho. i bought my toggle switch, dropped paul off and went home. where i silently wept and farted for hours. she had to remember me tho. if she didn't, she sucks.
posted by cp at 4:23 AM
Sunday, July 8
there she sat, wiping from the back
drops of poopiter in her crack, hey, hey, he-eyy
well, she shoulda been more careful, now it's over and done
yah, she got a little poopiter on her thumb, hey, hey, he-eyy
now she returns an hour later with a "how do ya do?"
a trail of quilted northern™ hangin' offa her shoe, hey, hey, he-eyy
tell me, did the toilet overflow?
did u make it to the door before
on the floor ur shit cascaded?
the janitor seems agitated
tell me, did u flush that funky mess?
did u piss ur pretty dress?
did u think of me while u were grunting like a hog back there?
posted by cp at 10:57 PM
it's africa hot and i'm hungry. i can't believe the weekend is almost over. i fell into my normal pattern of laziness this weekend. do nothing i promised myself i would do, stay up all night in vp and sleep all day. i've been playing dexter freebish's "leaving town" a lot lately and thinking about how great a fresh start would be for me. i dunno where i would go. i sure as hell can't imagine cramming all my "must have" shit in the back of a u-haul. it's all grass-is-greener pipe dream shit anyway, cause i know i'd miss my kids way too much to ever leave. it's pretty depressing to think about spending the rest of my life here, though. getting buried above the ground with the rest of the shrimp-boot-wearing rednecks. my fat ass mother-in-law second line dancing with an umbrella at my funeral. how fucked up is that tradition?
"yes darlin', uncle boudreaux kicked the bucket, now go run and get momma's parasol and tap shoes .. we got some mourning to do!"
maybe the saints will win the super bowl and things will brighten up around this downtrodden bitch of a city. i'll hold my breath on that one. i need a dart board.
posted by cp at 7:17 PM
Monday, May 21
i hate when i'm up past midnight on the computer and i notice the date and freak out for a second because it's night and i was supposed to do something that day, but then i realize that it's really the next day and i still have all day to do it. they oughta make it where the date doesn't change until after i go to sleep. not on my task bar, i mean in general. i wonder who i should write to for something like that. prolly the mayor of greenwich village or something.
posted by cp at 10:43 PM
Saturday, May 19
omfg i am so pumped! today was pinewood derby day at the ymca. it's this soapbox car deal where u build a vehicle out of scrap wood, paint it, add weights, etc., and then race them down an incline to see who has the fattest testicles. my son and i made this bad ass dragster with a piece of an old plastic toy car of his glued on top for mad aerodynamicz. we painted it red, white & blue, which is kind of cliche, granted, but the plastic part was already blue and we saw these shiny potty-training star stickers in the store and he wanted them for his car and i was like "why don't we get some red paint and do this fucker up like the american flag?", except i didn't say fucker, i said something more responsible and g-rated. so anyway, he got excited about that idea (he's 7, yay @ the easily influenced) so we went with the old glory theme. we even etched "usa" on the side. quivery lip pride and the 1980 olympic hockey team diving all over the ice after the 4-3 win over the hated russians. begone, mr. patriotic hard-on! anyway, so we built this mean machine, shellacked it down, thwucked a little graphite lubricant on the axles .. all this shit that prolly makes no difference in race performance whatsoever, but gives u that evil boris badenov stratego rush, sorta like doctoring up a baseball. so we get to the gym and the track was set up for the races, so we're just goofing around, doing these unofficial 1-on-1s with other fathers and sons who were equally bored at the time and we're dusting these fuckers, left and right! i mean 4 or 5 car lengths every time down, easy. so, at this point, everybody is all envious of american stardust and my balls are like puff daddy "can't nobody hold me down" biggy big. so the races start and when they get to the second year heats, we tear it up. the guy whose job it was to raise the starting gate has three boys, all in different age groups and, of course, each has a different car entry. anyway, we blow his middle son's shit out the water and i don't think he took it too well, cause he's examining the track for uneven spots and such. which is jerk off motion 20/20 hindsight bullshit, because the cars alternate tracks for the three heats in each set, so there's obviously no lane advantage. we go on to win the second year bracket in a cakewalk, so now it's down to the six winners in each group to determine the fastest overall car. ok, quick side note timeout here .. everybody in our tribe hates this fucker at the starting gate with a passion. he's not in our tribe, but he's this arrogant dick personal injury attorney that has to have everything go his way in every indian guides event or he holds his boys out, like anybody even gives a fuck if those snot ass bitches participate anyway, besides him. so it comes as no surprise when his two remaining boys' cars are slated to race against each other in the semifinals that he protests the integrity of alphabetical matchups. "there's no reason that a first year car should race against a fourth year car, just because they fall in that order alphabetically by owner, blah blah blah." i swear, if i wasn't so civilized and dad-like, i woulda ran up on that whiny bitch and done a rambo. but instead .. i chilled. oran juice jones, wtg me. after about five minutes of henhouse bickering, the grand cock finally got his way and they raced seperately. ok, here's where it gets good. his younger son easily won his 1-on-1, just like left the other car halfway down the track. his older son had a harder time of it. he lost the first heat, but then comes back and wins the second. so everybody is secretly pulling for this little girl's hello kitty car (they have some father/daughter and mother/daughter tribes in the program, i don't know which she was, not like it matters) to take out pompous prick, jr in the third heat. well, her car flips going down and his son's car wins, so the little girl starts busting out crying and everybody is going, "awww! cmon let's re-run that, the track caused that!" and he's like, "nope, rules are rules, that's why we alternate tracks." which i could see his point, but he didn't have to be such a dick about it, especially since his younger son was already assured a spot in the final three. so we go on to barely beat the sixth car in two straight races to set up a couldn't-have-scripted-it-any-better american stardust versus dickhead's son versus dickhead's son final set. our car barely won the first heat. it was like photo finish type shit on that one. i actually thought his younger son had won it, but nobody was going to agree with him cause he's a dick, including me. so the testosterone pumps are churning full-throttle now. all we had to do was win one of the next two heats and we got the fastest car trophy! the second heat started and our car flipped, but it knocked one of his son's cars off the track and landed upside down in front of the other one! and then fucking slid upside down across the finish line with his car pushing it! i was so excited, i must've jumped higher than the starting gate! which was about four feet off the ground, but i didn't really jump that high! anyway, bitch boy attorney started screaming bloody murder, but everybody else was like "noooooo, that's why we alternate tracks!" omg, the sweet vindication of hello kitty! i was so fucking proud! i put my son up on my shoulders and carried him around like ara parseghian when notre dame beat michigan in the rose bowl or some shit. i guess the ymca is too cheap to buy real trophies, so they hot glue ur wooden car to the top of a block of wood as ur trophy, so i got them to glue ours on there upside down, just to piss off the gatekeeper. i swear, in all my years of watching sports, and even in everyday life, i've never seen anything play out so poetically just as today's derby. it was like when steve martin started kicking his legs in the air when kevin caught the last out in "parenthood". hell, it even inspired me to blog! and i haven't done this shit in over a month! i don't wanna come back down from this cloooooud. bush, wtg us!
posted by cp at 11:58 PM
Wednesday, April 4
i was going thru my son's pokémon cards with him recently, seeing how many of them he could name off memory, when i came across this little piece of work.
lmao, wtf? correct me if i'm wrong, but didn't hugh grant get caught soliciting fellatio from this woman a few years back?
posted by cp at 5:43 PM
Monday, April 2
here's a joke somebody sent me, thought it was pretty funny:
one day, a man complained to his friend, "my elbow really hurts, guess i should see a doctor."
his friend said, "don't do that. there's a computer at the drug store that can diagnose anything quicker and cheaper than a doctor. simply put in a sample of ur urine, and the computer will diagnose ur problem and tell u what u can do about it. and it only costs ten bucks."
the guy figured he had nothing to lose, so he filled a jar with a urine sample and went to the drug store. finding the computer, he poured in the sample and deposited a ten dollar bill. the computer started making some noise and various lights started flashing. after a brief pause, out popped a small slip of paper which read:
>u have tennis elbow. soak your arm in warm water, avoid heavy labor. it will be better in two weeks.
that evening while thinking how amazing this new technology was and how it would change medical science forever, he began to wonder if this computer could be fooled. he decided to give it a try. he mixed together some tap water, a stool sample from his dog, and urine samples from his wife and daughter. to top it off, he masturbated into the concoction. he went back to the drug store, located the computer, poured in the sample and deposited the ten bucks. the machine again made the usual noises, flashed lights, and printed out the following analysis:
>ur tap water is too hard. get a water softener.
>ur dog has ringworm. bathe him with anti-fungal shampoo.
>ur daughter is using cocaine. put her in a rehabilitation clinic.
>ur wife is pregnant .. twin girls. they aren't urs. get a lawyer.
>and if u don't stop jerking off, ur elbow will never get better.
posted by cp at 1:44 AM
Saturday, March 31
k, i'm dedicating this song to minxie, who helped me write it, and to all the lame ass earnhardt fans that i always see in wal-mart with their shoeless, snotty-nosed, icee-eating babies in tow and all the clearance-priced dale tribute t-shirts, pennants, posters, ball caps and other memorabilia they can possibly find crammed into their shopping baskets. the fucker is dead, get over it already!
"nascar rose"
goodbye nascar rose
though i never knew u at all
i'd seen ur face
i knew u raced
and heard about the crash
goodbye nascar rose
half a million rednecks wept
the day u left
why'd u drive so fuckin fast?
and it seems to me
u hit that wall
doing close to 185
in daytona beach
the brakes went screetch
now no longer ur alive
and i would've liked to know u
for that i'd always brag
ur candle burned out long before
they dropped the checkered flag
goodwrench sponsorship
a lovely wife
a storied life
u seemed to have it all
but in that final lap
ur seatbelt snapped
when u smacked into the wall
and it seems to me
u lost the race
cause u wouldn't let em pass
tapped from behind
u lost control
and then that was ur ass
and i would've liked to help u
but i didn't have a squeegee
heard ur brains were splattered so far
they found some of them in fiji
goodbye nascar rose
from all the fans
that packed the stands
that fateful winter day
goodbye winston cup
as every heart stood still
ur engine killed
#3 had passed away
and it seems to me
ur smiling down
on the circuit from above
never knowing
who had won that race
yet knowing u were loved
and i would've liked to know u
my fond 'intimidator'
ur candle burned out long before
u ate that radiator
posted by cp at 7:23 PM
don't u hate when u see dried blood on ur t-shirt and ur looking all up under ur arm and shit trying to figure out where ur bleeding from and u can't find any cuts or anything and then u realize that the blood is just a chocolate stain? not me.
posted by cp at 12:44 AM
Thursday, March 29
when i was in junior high, they had this black girl named tamika in one of my classes. she was pretty cool, but everyone used to make fun of her name. calling her "tamika, kansas" and gay shit like that. i remember one time i put my hand on my hip and strutted around her all funky like mick jagger, singing "we're gonna come around with some puerto rican girls that are just dyinnn tamikaaa".
she started crying, lol. i was like "damn, chill the fuck out, i ain't really bringing the puerto ricans". so she told the teacher i was harassing her and i got sent to the disciplinarian's office. he was a big rolling stones fan tho, so i didn't get in much trouble. but still.
hate @ tattletales.
posted by cp at 2:56 AM
Tuesday, March 27
upon closer inspection, third eye blind turned out to be a nose. also, doesn't whack-a-mole sound an awful lot like guacamole? i bet it could look like it, too, if u whacked it hard enough.
posted by cp at 7:28 PM
new guestbook!
and it works~!@!~
posted by cp at 2:26 AM
i recently found out that i was voted funniest guy in 20ish main on vp. i think it's an honor to be recognized by my peers as funny, cause i really like trying to make ppl lol, or ltao or every so often rotfltfao. but at the same time, this whole title of "funniest guy" .. man, i dunno. it can have a real downside, too. i can't help but feel added pressure now every time i log on to vp. cause it's official now, yanno? i'm prolly being whispered about in tabs from davinci's notebook all the way to the pink triangle. ok, it's "whithper" in the pink triangle, but that's not important. they're prolly all "omg, ith that funny pizza guy! .. not funny queer, funny haha".
geez, that's gonna be like a fucking albatross around my neck, i can feel the weight already. tell us a joke, cp! u funny bastard, let's see what ur made of. maybe i won't be in a comedy sorta mood sometimes, yanno? maybe i'll be in a pensive or melancholy frame of mind. but it won't matter, cause now all of a sudden i have this .. this label. it just ain't right. and don't think i don't remember those little popularity fill-in-the-blank sheets that all the kids would pass around in homeroom. i know what "life of the party" and "great personality" means on those things, i ain't fucking stupid. yall think i'm some ugly ass freak with a big head that can't get a date, so i gotta stay at home and crack jokes to online strangers. well lemme tell u something. if u ain't ever been to the ghetto, don't ever come to the ghetto. cause u ain't understand the ghetto. stay the fuck outta the ghetto. naughty by nature, wtg me. what i'm saying is, i'll never be able to live up to these lofty expectations u ppl have of me, like no matter what. each one of u oughta stop reading this right now, go look in the fucking mirror and ask urself "what gives me the right to call this man funny?" that's right, do a little soul searching. and see how it feels. maybe u won't think everything's so giggleworthy when the shoe is on the other foot, u big bunch of meanypants. i hate u all, ihateuihateuihateu! i wish yall would die! then i could start over and be a normal chatter and not this damn god of humor u make me out to be.
-bursts into tears like anthony michael hall when he pulled the ceramic elephant's trunk and the lamp didn't come on
posted by cp at 1:23 AM
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