This is Hogshit

You're Gonna Have to Say Jap Penis if You Want Me to Laugh

2008-09-29T22:21:00.009-06:00

Welcome back everyone. I have to say, a lot has changed since the last post. Over a year and a half has come and gone. I've gone "all the way" with at least two girls. The sock next to my bed has gotten harder and harder as a combination of semen and neglect has wreaked havoc on its once soft and smooth exterior.

But most importantly, I've grown out of my childish sense of humor. The word "penis" no longer makes me giggle uncontrollably. My new mature taste now requires that "penis" be combined with at least one more sexual phrase or racial slur before I'll even consider chuckling. Now that we've reacquainted ourselves, let's steal from our respective employers by wasting our time on the clock with something wildly inappropriate for work. Besides, I don't know about you, but my boss really doesn't have a legitimate case against me for what I'm doing right now. I'm barely even exposing myself.

For the first post back, I've decided to lay out my thoughts on the recent economic downturn. Instead of wasting time with those corrupt news websites, just sit back and relax and let me condense the most complicated financial crisis in decades into a few poorly structured, ill-informed, profanity-ridden paragraphs. Stick with my advice on enough topics and you won't have to worry about planning for your retirement anyway, you'll die much too young.

First off I'd like to give fair warning and just let you know up front that when I confront an issue, I like to think "outside the box". With "box" in this context of course meaning vagina. I refuse to be clouded by sex while speaking on important issues.

For example, I like to take a different perspective on the economy than you may be used to. You're probably used to hearing political and financial analysts point their fingers at Wall Street or greedy CEO's or inefficient and corrupt government. But I like to focus on how these hard times weigh on Joe Taxpayer. To use a phrase that I just made up right now, "How does what's happening on Wall Street, affect you on MAIN Street." I know, pretty clever, right? So, before you shit on yourself with anticipation, here is my contribution to Section 121 of the proposed bailout plan:

"Nothing in this subsection shall be construed to authorize the public disclosure of information that is - A) specifically prohibited from disclosure by any other provision of law; B) specifically required by Executive order to be protected from disclosure in the interest of national defense or national security or in the conduct of foreign affairs"

.........Ok, so I lied. That doesn't have anything to do with the average person, but I'm pretty proud of it anyway. What I was basically trying to say with that addition is that if anyone tries to link me to gay sex, they can be tortured. Really, I can't take too much credit for the finished product. All I did was write "I ain't no fag" on a napkin and gave it to an intern along with a thesaurus and they rewrote it for me. Also, later in section C, I write in $1.4 billion of Wachovia stock to be donated to T-Boone-Pickens.com.

In the long run, I think overpaying for private companies' bad debt by heaping onto an already massive national deficit will benefit everyone. So in closing, unless you're a rich 72-year old with 9 houses and 13 cars, you may want to take out a hardship withdrawal from your 401k and invest in a Rosetta Stone language DVD and learn Mandarin. Have a great week!

Do You Like the Thrill of Murder? If So, Read On

2007-03-27T19:06:00.000-06:00

Welcome to the land of enchantment. It's a world of wonder, excitement, natural beauty, and neck tattoos. If you are looking for part time work in roadside construction, you have found your fantasy world, my friend. Not convinced yet? You will be after I finish outlining the benefits of a state that most people generously consider a part of beautiful and thriving Mexico.

1. Affordable Public Transportation:

Sure, you've probably never considered setting foot on one of your city's disgusting portable homeless toilets, but don't let your better judgment scare you away just yet. You see, Albuquerque's mass transit system is different; They will join with you, hand in hand, in a partnership to set you up for success. For example, have you ever been late for work, foolishly sleeping in that extra five minutes and hoping to catch the green lights in your car? Now that you've switched to Albuquerque's public transportation, you can consider this a problem of the past. You see, with Abq Ride, we foster an environment of punctuality. You will no longer think of staying in bed for an extra five minutes. In fact, you will be forced to wake up at least two hours earlier than would normally be accepted as necessary for your short work commute. With our erratic schedule, if ever want to be on time, you will wake up to catch the 6:30 bus just in case. Albuquerque also actively advertises its many travel options, leading one to believe that environmental cleanliness is a priority in this great city. Before you are scared off by that assumption, let me assure you with my next point that this is simply not the case.

2. The Unparalleled Freedom of Governmental Neglect:

I know what you're thinking: "Murph, Albuquerque sounds great, but I hate worrying about a clean city. I want to leave my old cars on my lawn." Well you might as well load up the U-Haul, because you are in luck. Despite the appearance of environmental concern, as a privileged resident of this fine state, you are more than welcome to leave whatever refuse you see fit strewn about your property. You not only have the freedom to place rusted garbage in plain public sight, you can leave it there as long as you like, without the slightest fear of being hassled. You can rest easy at night with the secure knowledge that your fourteen year old daughter's toddler will enjoy the same discarded oven that you enjoyed as an illiterate child. And with the lack of overwhelming and smothering governmental interference like funding for education, you are free to teach your children the important technological skills of the future, like how to live off the land.

...Coming in future installments: "The Rich Local Culture" and "We've Got the Largest Per Capita Prison Population in the Country. That Means All the Bad People are Already in Jail"

Murph's Chicken Shack: "They Don't Understand They're Being Killed, They Just Know It Hurts."

2006-12-22T23:07:00.000-07:00

We need to start showing animals who's the boss. And by showing them who's the boss, I don't mean strapping them down in front of TVs while Tony and Angela have a light-hearted debate about gender roles in 1980's America. Although I don't think anyone would argue the fact that that would also be a very good idea.

What I mean is that we need to stop treating animals like they have souls. Everyone knows that it has been scientifically proven, again and again, that the soul is an anatomical feature specific to humans. It was given to us by God himself when we agreed to let Him randomly select who goes bald.

Anyway, to get back on topic, humane treatment of animals has gotten out of hand. I've even seen restaurants advertise that the animals that they serve were treated ethically.

Well, I say, fuck that. I'm starting my own chain of restaurants that will openly disregard hygiene, laws, and widely accepted moral standards. It will be fast food chicken, and I've already come up with a basic premise for my ad campaign. Let me know what you think:

Setting: A midwestern farm. A farmer is up at dawn to feed the chickens.
Date: A simpler time

Narrator: You know, here at Murph's Chicken Shack, we've heard all about those other restaurants, treating their chickens like people. Making sure they're tucked in at night; No holes in their jammies. Well, that's just fine for them. To each his own, as we like to say. But we like to take things a little bit slower here on the Murphy farm. Call us old fashioned, but we treat people right, not animals.

(Farmer shows his young son how to break a chicken's neck as camera fades into a present-day Murph's Chicken Shack filled with families)

Narrator: When you set foot in a Murph's Chicken Shack, you know that your meal was prepared with you in mind. We keep the chickens right here on-site, safely stuffed by the hundreds into unheated metal pens. Then, when you place your order, your chicken is carefully hand-selected out of the healthy and living candidates. This process ensures that not only will your meal be fresh, but also that only the strong, delicious chickens reach your plate. Once the lucky winner is chosen, this is where Murph's Chicken Shack is set apart from the competition.

At other restaurants, you may be forced to passively stand by while your meal is prepared. Well, at MCS, you become a part of the fun. You and your family are ushered into the cooking area and seated comfortably in one of our spacious viewing booths to watch as the chicken is slowly submerged and drowned in a sweet and smokey blend of hickory bbq sauce and home-grown spices. As you watch on, the animal is periodically removed and re-engulfed in the delectable seasoning until its will is overwhelmed with flavor and its consciousness submits to your hunger.

From that point, it is only a few short minutes before your conquest is complete, and you envelop the chicken's essence as a part of one of our six affordable combo plates. And for those of you out there who need a little bit extra, don't forget to Macho Size your meal with an extra large Mr. Pibb and onion rings; Because at Murph's Chicken Shack, you have it the way nature intended.

Murph's Chicken Shack: "They Don't Understand They're Being Killed, They Just Know It Hurts."

I'm Not Very Much Like Bruce Willis. I'm More Like One of the Random Pedestrians That He Kills During One of the Chase Scenes

2006-12-01T15:10:00.000-07:00

I will be back with a vengeance soon. And by "with a vengeance", I don't mean like the Die Hard movie, I mean like writing distasteful blog entries about pooping and recently deceased celebrities.

Yankees Dump Lidle in Salary Cap Move

2006-10-12T19:19:00.000-06:00

In baseball news, God sured up his bullpen yesterday with the aquisition of Yankees' pitcher Cory Lidle. The veteran was traded to New York earlier this season along with Bobby Abreu near the trading deadline, but recently wore out his welcome by not informing the team of his impending death. The events were set into motion during the team's division series matchup with the Detroit Tigers in which third baseman Alex Rodriguez effectively ended his teammate's life with an 0 for 3 performance in game 4. When reached for comment after the game, Rodriguez stated, "Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. But all I can say is that my lack of production killed our pitching staff in this series". No word as to whether or not Rodriguez will be charged in the case. Yankee captain Derek Jeter also added, "There are times that you just play a team on a roll. In this series, we really just flew into a wall that was the Detroit Tigers.".

Ok, so I'm a dick. But come on, how is this guy anything but a moron? After only having his pilot's license for a few months, he made the decision to take his plane out in bad weather over Manhattan, which he then crashed into a building, killing innocent people. Say, for example, that he had instead been speeding in his porsche in the rain and killed two people; Would people be so understanding and sympathetic then? Fuck no, they wouldn't. They'd be talking about what a terrible person he was for being so reckless. Well an inexperienced pilot flying around the most densely populated area in the United States in bad weather is being reckless. I bet the people in the apartment complex that woke up to a plane in the face would agree with me.

oF coUrse you Can spell espn liKe that, YOU piece of shit

2006-10-09T21:03:00.000-06:00

I understand that some people really want to be on TV. For me personally, I don't think it's worth it to look like a douchebag for 3 hours just so that ESPN will show your "Sportscenter is Next" sign for 4 seconds in the tenth frame of the PBA Omaha Open. Just like I won't sell my cow for magic beans, I won't trade sucking TNT's dick for an entire Spurs game just to get my face on Inside the NBA. But if you are going to accept that trade-off, there have to be SOME rules. The only one I have for now is that you have to spell the network's acronym with the first letters of the words on your sign. For example:

Eagles
Sack
Pennington
Now

= acceptable

lEbron
jameS
Peed
oN me

= unacceptable

The autistic guy that runs out to pick up the stand after kickoffs can come up with a four word sign with the letters E, S, P, and N sprinkled somewhere throughout the words. Now all he needs is a non-toxic marker, a pair of safety scissors, and your ticket and you two are interchangeable.

I'm Not a Good Person

2006-09-18T16:37:00.002-06:00

Highlights from the new Sunday night NFL on NBC:

"As Peyton Manning puts aside his personal hatred of blacks to connect with Marvin Harrison for 12 yards, let's go down to Pam Oliver for a report on clothes and pink stuff."

"Thanks Al. I talked to Colts coach Tony Dungy at halftime, and even though his son is dead, he still feels optimistic about his team's chances to defend against Tiki Barber and the rest of the Giants ground game in the second half. As for the question of his racial background, he thinks he might be part Indian. Back to you Al."

Because You're Worth It

2006-08-07T09:54:00.002-06:00

Since starting college four years ago I've been surviving mostly on Sportscenter and bologna. I've wandered through grocery stores searching for expired ground beef that's 10% off and I've sold books on Ebay to pay my rent. I've lived this life, so I know that there is a big market segment of poor college students willing to eat shitty food to stay alive. But what I don't understand is why no one has tapped into the starving and desperate demographic of homeless people that we see on the streets everyday.

Sure, people will give them free food and try to help them, but it's about time that someone took advantage of their misfortune. It's my plan to open a chain of grocery stores offering a low-cost, trashcan fire friendly line of foods marketed to the homeless. It will be mostly pasta and bread products to keep the prices down and will have public restrooms open to even the dirtiest of hobos. For a store name I'm thinking about "On Your Way to Hell". I've also made a list of possible product slogans:

Top Quality Bread: "Stay alive until your next fix"

Premium Imitation Pasta: "Give your ringworm the best in Italian cuisine"

Ramen's Best: "You should be ashamed of yourself"

On Your Way to Hell: "We accept bags of pennies"

3-minute Pasta: "Have lunch in a box, in a box"

OYWTH Cola: "In a nationwide taste test, preferred over sucking dick for meth"

The Original Food Chunk: "Because Jesus forgot you"

The line will have several products at launch, including "Deluxe 3 Cheese Macaroni" and "Party Blend", which is just the leftover pieces of crushed macaroni soaked in MSG. The first store will also offer a healthy, cheap Grape Nuts alternative called "You're Almost Dead". It's made of petrified wood, Centrum Silver, recycled paper towels, and potting soil.

In addition to the sub-standard ingredients, I will also keep prices low by employing children and by robbing and selling whoever passes out in the store.

Rule #4: Avoid Skeletor

2006-08-03T15:46:00.000-06:00

Three rules for a successful job interview:

1. Match the body language of the interviewer
You can't be leaning back in your chair and eating a bag of cool ranch Doritos when your interviewer is sitting like they have a 30-inch dildo duct-taped up their back like a He-Man sword. It's just unprofessional. Conversely, if they're relaxed in their chair, you can't sit there like your trying to make it easier for someone to fuck you in the butt through the hole in the back of the chair. What I'm trying to say is, act like they're the cool kid in middle school. Put your hair in a scrunchie, buy a G.I. Joe lunchbox, do whatever it takes. God knows you're not going anywhere on your talent.

2. This isn't the time for modesty
Sure, in day-to-day conversation you might not feel comfortable bragging, but this is a job interview. If you're gonna trick someone into hiring you, they need to know your strong points. Is your penis over 8 inches? Do you kick ass at Halo? Just like women, respectable business people are fascinated with things like that. Qualifications, education and people skills are overrated. If you have time, earn some bonus points by throwing in some old high school sports stories.

3. Demand respect through your confidence
Every pussy shakes hands. Set yourself apart by hurling feces and making unprovoked threats. Ninety percent of interviewers make up their mind about you in the first fifteen seconds. Make a good first impression by asserting your dominance. Remember, YOU are the alpha male. Have sex with a female passerby, preferably impregnating them. If there is food in the room, immediately stand between it and any challengers. If there are others waiting to be interviewed, secrete liquid from one of your exocrine glands to stave off any further advances.

So, there you have it. Follow these three simple steps and you will be on your way to obtaining the job of your dreams. Guaranteed*.

*100% guarantee that you will immediately get any job on Earth or I will give you $1,000

Looks Like Suicide Again For Me

2006-07-28T14:47:00.002-06:00

Anyone who knows me understands and accepts that I have my own way of dealing with things. Some might call it immoral; others might say illegal or unstable. Whatever floats your boat, my friend. For the purposes of this post, let's just settle on ingenious.

Anyway, today started out just like any other day. I woke up 2 hours late, rubbed one out to a Jewel video on VH1, and then got my electric bill in the mail. While I was going over the usual list of things that I could sell/steal and sell to pay it before all the expired mustard in my fridge was ruined, all of a sudden, it came to me. I realized that suicide would actually be a much easier and smarter way to deal with my temporary problem. Once that decision was out of the way, the only thing left to do was to come up with the coolest way to end it.

The first qualification for any successful suicide is its ability to permanently traumatize a large number of people. Well, since no one loves me, I had to improvise on this. It has to be in public.

Any first-hand witness will inevitably be scarred for life, regardless of whether or not they know me personally. So where do thousands of people gather in Albuquerque where they won't be distracted by price-slashing yellow smiley faces? College football games, that's where.

What some of you might not know about New Mexico is that it sucks. That's why you don't live here. So instead of reading or building a civilization, people all over the state flock to UNM football games to celebrate a proud tradition of losing obscure bowl games. Don't let these fans' illiteracy or lack of connection to the university trick you into thinking that they aren't hardcore Lobo supporters. They never take their eyes off the action. That's exactly what makes this the perfect stage.

I realize that the college football season hasn't started yet, so this doesn't exactly take care of my electric bill right away. I might have to accept being homeless for a couple of months. I guess that's where my committment to this whole idea will really be tested. Assuming that I can live off of the kindness of strangers for two months, I really don't see any other obstacles to my plan. And if I know the intelligence, selflessness, and comedic ability of hobos like I think I do, I really don't see that being a problem.

Consistent with the philanthropic theme of this idea, I've also decided to pay for my own funeral by renting out the space on my body during the suicide to advertisers. I've reached a tentative deal with a poker website called PokerSuicide.net for my upper back, and the Ab Rocker has committed to my ripped mid-section. Pretty much anywhere else is still available if anyone is interested. No adult websites though, there might be children there.

You Liar. Strawberries Aren't Even in Season.

2006-07-07T15:14:00.002-06:00

There are certain days in your life where something special happens; Days where everything comes into focus, your viewpoint is changed forever, and your life is set on a new and exciting path. Sorry, that day isn't today for you. Good luck, though.

No, today is just another day that makes me question whether or not I died somehow and I just don't remember it, and now this is all my elaborate personalized hell. If it is, I've got to hand it to Satan, because this homemade strawberry cheesecake left over from the office's July birthdays celebration is just fantastic. I guess this can't be hell because a piece of cheesecake like this is just a little slice of heaven, am I right girls?

Besides, this is way too complex. If I was in charge of creating each person's hell, I'd probably just do something simple like eat their face. Or maybe give them an eternity of that feeling that you get when you first swallow something that goes down wrong, and for a minute you're so convinced that you're gonna suffocate that you just start grabbing and pulling on people's shirts. I've seen Navy Seals turned into scared, confused toddlers when a sip of juicy juice that was headed for their tummy went down the wrong pipe. And let's face it, there aren't too many things worse than being a scared confused toddler. When the dog steals your favorite blanket, your whole world falls apart. And the sound of Matt Lauer on TV in the morning is like the voice of God. Bad example, some things never change. Matt, you are a special one. Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, that's right, nothing. It's quitting time.

(Loverboy's "Everybody's Workin' For the Weekend" plays as Shane exits the office)

I'd Rather be a Firefighter

2006-06-30T11:20:00.002-06:00

You don't ask the guy at blockbuster to let you have 2 Fast 2 Furious for half price while your at the counter renting XXX: State of the Union, right? And you don't ask the hooker you bought for the hour to stay late and throw in an extra cincinatti bowtie on the house. So why does everyone always ask the cable guy to hook them up with free HBO like they're old pals? Cable guys are people, too. Just because their lives took a horrible, horrible turn somewhere along the way to becoming an astronaut, doesn't mean that they don't deserve your respect. I mean, there have been plenty of times that I've looked at a chick's ass and mumbled to myself that I would trade my soul to smother it in bold and spicy A-1 sauce and pound it like I caught it stealing money from an orphan's college fund. The only difference is that the devil must have been listening when the cable guy said that. It's just straight out bad luck when you sit down and think about it rationally. So in the future, stop assuming that the guy installing your cable is willing to put his job on the line so that you can jack off to The Princess Diaries 2 without paying $12 a month, because it's just plain selfish.

We Interrupt This Newscast With an Urgent Bulletin...Shaq is on FIRE!!!

2006-06-16T14:04:00.002-06:00

Apparently it's fire season and there are a few fires burning "out of control" around Albuquerque. Whatever, Jessica Alba's ass is out of control. My pubes are out of control. Fires aren't out of control until they kill someone. So, to the KOAT channel 7 executives that read my blog regularly, please don't cut into the 4th quarter of the NBA finals to tell me that someone across town accidentally burned 12 acres of the irreplaceable and beautiful Albuquerque south valley. The NBA doesn't interrupt the local news to tell you that Shaq has made 8 of his last 9 field goals. And just in case you're unfamiliar with this breath-taking tourist attraction, I've added a picture below that was taken before the fires. You don't walk around a place like this, you wander it in desperation.

That dog committed suicide

Also, I noticed that I didn't make any inappropriate sexual references in that post, so I thought I'd add a little something here at the end. Sometimes I wish that my penis was just gigantic. So big that I could just pull it out at parties and people wouldn't even mind because it's just so big that it's funny instead of disgusting. But then I realize that, for all practical purposes, a penis that big would be just about as useless as a really tiny one. So I guess the lesson in this post is, be happy with your mediocre penis. Or life, or whatever. Whatever metaphorical shit you wanna put in there. Unless your penis is tiny. In that case, sorry for bringing it up.

Just Give Me the Pulitzer

2006-06-15T13:47:00.002-06:00

"Semen on the Walls": A collection of introspective haikus about masturbation by Murph

I don't know if haikus are supposed to have titles or not, but who gives a shit. I don't think any college professors are critiquing my masturbation poetry anyway.

"Masturbating with Montgomery Gentry"

The meaning of life
Right before I blow my load
Gone like yesterday

"I'm broke"

Dating takes money
Need to take the rental back
Jack off on the couch

"Pick up some beer, too"

Ejaculation
Telemundo at midnight
I'm out of Kleenex

"Rockefeller center feels empty"

Raging morning wood
Bathroom floor needs to be washed
Katie Couric leaves

FIN

I'm Gonna Have to Ask You to Go Ahead and Come in on Sunday Too. Thanks.

2006-06-09T14:17:00.002-06:00

I can't wait until the day that this guy happens to show up next to me at the urinal here at work. I know that sounds really gay, but it's not what you're thinking. I just really hate this guy and I probably spend a good 10-15% of my time here at work fucking with him. Don't feel bad for him though, he deserves it. He's the kind of guy that acts polite, but wouldn't give up a Sunday of tennis to save a group of orphans. The reason I hate him is that he's not the student employment supervisor, but he's on a fucking mission to watch all the students and report every time any of us writes a text message or accidentally leaves with an office pen. The things I do are just inconveniences anyway. Things like taking all the paper out of his fax machine. Or switching out the new batteries from his stapler for the dead ones in my mp3 player. You know, stuff that interupts his day, but if he went and told my boss about them, she'd just think he was insane. The best part is that I see him notice this stuff all the time and it bothers the shit out of him. It's makes my day.

Anyway, back to the urinal. I'm patiently awaiting the sweet day when the planets align, and Pat the accounting supervisor steps into the previously safe haven that is the UNM Business Center 2nd floor bathroom, only to find that the only in-service urinal is an uncomfortably close 12-15 inches away from me and my angry penis. At first, he'll probably think nothing of it as he nervously attempts to remove his excuse for a baby's cock from the disproportionatly gigantic penishole of his double-pleated Van Heusen khakis. Then, just as the soft, broken stream of urine starts to splatter onto his $10 K-mart penny-loafers, I'm gonna take one hand off my dick and place it gently on his shoulder while I whisper in his ear, "Hey Pat, it's me who's stealing your ink cartridges". Then I'll slap him on the ass and walk out.

It's perfect. After that I'll stop doing everything and he'll be left paranoid and uncomfortable, with piss all over the front of his pants and a huge man's handprint on his ass.

Chorus: Titties, Like Soft and Round Redemption

2006-06-06T16:11:00.000-06:00

Oh shit! Posts two days in a row? Last time that happened George W. Bush was in office, milk was $3 a gallon, and my shoe size was 12. Ok, so that was only like a year ago and none of the things I listed have changed.

I'm getting pretty bored here at work. So far today I've written two songs about titties, and that's not counting the hip-hop song, because that's more like poetry.

Hardball with Murph: Gay Marriage: Fact or Fiction?

2006-06-05T15:01:00.000-06:00

As I'm sure everyone can tell, I am a very intelligent man who likes to keep up on current events. Wait, whom likes to keep....who....

Anyway, recently there has been a heated debate between humans and republicans over whether or not gay people should be allowed to marry. And I know that with all the information out there, it's hard to know what to believe. So with that in mind, I just thought that I would clear up a few of the common misconceptions that surround the issue.

First of all, most people think that president Bush is morally opposed to the marital union of same sex partners. However, this is simply not the case. Over the past few years I've had several opportunities to sit down and have deep, hard-hitting, imaginary conversations with the president and I can personally assure you that he strongly supports gay marriage. Despite the fact that during these dreams the president would periodically transform into two women kissing around my penis, I was able to gather some important details about his stance on the issue. Most notably, while the discussions progressed it quickly became clear that George was somewhat misinformed about the specifics of gay relationships, as well as the basic laws of space, time, and physics.

You see, rather than sharing the popular religious belief that homosexual intercourse is a sin, the president is simply under the impression that legal marital equality would successfully compel thousands of storks to begin to deliver large numbers of babies to gay couples within an unreasonably short period of time. His concern is that this series of events would then cause the diversion of thousands of commercial airliners into federally protected airspace. In the interest of time I won't go into any further detail, but I will say that the bar graphs on the president's powerpoint presentation were particularly convincing.

I'm leaving work and I don't see this going anywhere, so maybe I'll be back in another month to add more. See you in hell, mother fuckers!

Uncle Sam, Stay the Fuck Out of my Business

2006-05-08T15:48:00.000-06:00

I guess I should be studying or something. You know what I really want to do though? Not study. And I do what feels good. If I end up failing a class, or somebody is hurt because of that philosophy, then so be it. Who am I to play God? A guy with a really cool beard just walked by. See, I have more important things to do than study for some fucking operations management test. Who needs operations management anyway? If people would just let it go, they'd find that operations pretty much tend to themselves. They don't need The Man trying to force them into his little box. Alright, I better go study.

Mexico, I'll See You When I'm Too Old To Have Fun

2006-03-27T13:59:00.000-07:00

Oh, the troubles of being a virile, able-bodied, early 20s, white male in America approaching his sexual peak. You know how somedays you're just enjoying your life, planning for a spring break trip to Mexico, and making fun of people who are different? Then all of a sudden, your carefully planned vacation completely falls apart. I had spent the last year prepping for this trip. I maintained a strict schedule of working out, practicing weird sexual positions with women of questionable attractiveness, and building a healthy tolerance to dysentery. Then I forget a few details and the trip is ruined. We didn't have anyone to stay with, all the hotels were full, and I don't have any money. Oh well, I did spend St. Patrick's day unsuccessfully seducing married women and vomiting corn beef into a plastic hat, so I guess there's always a silver lining.

Oh, to be Mentally Disabled

2006-03-22T12:25:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wish I was crazy. Like really, really crazy. The kind of crazy where people just agree with everything you say because right away, they know how crazy you are. It would just be a nice feeling. People wouldn't judge my appearance or personal hygiene. Everyone would just try to help me because I don't know any better. Then they would take me away to a nice, cozy hospital with board games and plenty of room to play outside. And I could watch Angelina Jolie and Winona Ryder make out. I would paint rainbows on my walls and the nurses would dress me and sing me Otis Redding every night before I went to sleep. The only time things would get out of hand is if they didn't make me the kind of food that I want. If I ask for Kraft macaroni and cheese, I don't want some Great Value bullshit. I want Kraft for a reason: It's the cheesiest. And if I don't get it, and get it soon, I'll fucking lose it. I'll shit and piss all over myself. Fuck it. I've got the blues.

Ladies and Gentlemen, President Murph

2006-03-08T12:05:00.000-07:00

I'm sure you've all thought at one time or another, "Hey, what would it be like if Murph was president?". Well, I think you might mean "if Murph were president". You dumbass. I'm really not sure which one is right. But anyway, I was wondering the same thing. But instead of taking a healthy and proactive approach to striving toward that goal, I've decided to make a ridiculous and offensive list of things that might be different if I was elected to office. I've also decided to completely disregard the inherent limitations of the presidency (and being human) and instead chosen to assume God-like power over all aspects of space and time. So, with that said, here are a few things that would be different if I was elected president of the United States:

1. Special sessions of Congress would be called periodically to discuss the appropriate time that I should wait before calling the girl that I had sex with the previous night.

2. Universal healthcare coverage would immediately become one of the administration's top three priorities, trailing only: 1) Renaming all mosques and Muslim places of worship to "sleeper cell 1, 2, 3...Etc." ; and 2) Rewarding all people of real faith with 3-day passes to Six Flags over Texas

3. Hunting trips would be restored to order by implementing the rule of no shooting in the face or balls.

4. Stem cell research would be federally funded, but experimentation would be limited only to embryos specifically designated by God or mentioned in the Bible. Any person or group engaging in independant research would be subject to public stoning.

5. Any artwork depicting nudity or sexual acts will be hastily draped with pre-screened cartoon clippings of an appealing and pleasing nature. (ex. Ziggy)

Maybe I'll add some more later

It's a Little Ceasar's Breadstick

2006-02-16T18:16:00.000-07:00

You know how sometimes you get so focused on other things in your life that you kind of ignore really, really important stuff like writing shitty blog entries that four people will stumble upon when they search for "seal's face acne"? Well that's what I've let happen to me and I apologize. Oh and I also want to apologize, I don't know what is wrong with Seal's face. But come on, give the man his privacy. So he's ugly. So what? Just let him be. With that said, here is a little picture diary of the last month.

2006-01-17T18:11:00.000-07:00

I'm Getting Replaced by Petey Pablo

2006-01-06T15:42:00.000-07:00

I have a note left here for me at work and I think it says:

"Shane-
Please upload our whistle.

Thanks,
Elaine"

You might be thinking, "So just do it. What's the problem?". Well, the problem is, I don't know how to upload whistles. I can download and manipulate them, but I was never properly trained on uploading. I'm gonna get fired.

Things I Say That Cause Awkward Pauses.......Part 1

2006-01-06T15:28:00.000-07:00

Situation: Someone sees me come out of the bathroom

Person (in disgust): "Oh my God, you didn't wash your hands, did you?"

Me: "My penis is way cleaner than the sink handle."

Person: "What?"

Me: "You could eat dinner off my penis."

(Awkward Silence)

Situation: I'm walking up some stairs in my office building (I own it) and accidentally miss my floor (I own the floor) and walk all the way up to the door that leads to the roof; Someone sees me walking back down.

Person (jokingly): "What are you doing up on the roof?"

Me: "Kickin' it. Smokin' a J."

(Awkward Silence)

Me: "You a cop?"

Origins of Holidays: Hanukkah Edition

2006-01-04T21:05:00.000-07:00

Gather 'round children while I tell you a tale; a tale of miracles; a tale of wonderous animals and unexpected celebrity cameos; a tale of improper semicolon usage; a tale of Hanukkah.

It all started on a blustery winter day, sometime back when God roamed the plains like an unbridaled mustang. Bartering was the fashion of the day and people were hardworking and wholesome and content with the limited pleasure of the missionary position. However, even with modern conveniences like sandals and portable DVD players, occasionally people of the lower class fell on hard times. This was especially true for minorities and those who depended on God to provide for them.

In the days before the real God was made popular by professional athletes and music videos, those who worshipped him were often looked down upon and, at times, even persecuted. Judah Maccabee and his four brothers were examples of such believers. In response to harsh oppression at the hands of some king, the small group of men formed a resistance organization that they cleverly named "The Maccabees". The king in question was particularly faggish and instead of supporting the Maccabees' movement, he continued in his ways of mistreating his loyal subjects and selling underground videos of homeless people having sex.

After some indeterminate period of fighting, the Maccabees successfully drove the Greco-Syrians out of Wisconsin and proceeded to the Holy Temple. Upon their arrival, however, they noticed that they were tired of writing and wanted to rub one out before bedtime. In order to do this, they would need enough unleaded gasoline to get back home. Although it seemed impossible at the time, the Maccabees drove their Toyota Land Cruiser all the way back to campus without a single stop for gas, and with the needle all the way on the wrong side of E.

The End

Inside Murph

2005-12-23T15:26:00.000-07:00

The semester is over. Every line on my birthday party checklist got checked off. Technically I didn't make a real checklist, but it was really only two things and I'll bet that anyone who has ever read my site can guess what they are.

So what's up with the shit on Seal's face? Is it frostbite? Is it cystic acne scars? I'm trying to study for the Christmas Trivial Pursuit game and I can't find that answer anywhere. And I've looked a lot of places. My site, probably your site, my memory. It's nowhere.

If anyone out there is a doctor, I have a question for you. I am way too horny, what should I do? I could spend the whole weekend getting my penis milked at a dairy farm and I would still masturbate on Monday. In the morning. And I'll still write sentence fragments. Seriously though, besides normal stuff like porn and muted Gwen Stefani videos, I've masturbated to cartoons, Kmart ads, and even songs. No video at all, not even a CD case, just the song. I've even jerked it to age progression photographs. Those people don't even exist.

Oh and I'm relieved to report that the GPA decline was successful. It was close for a while, but in the end it took a professor not accepting a late extra credit assignment to finally push me over the edge. If I don't start taking this more seriously I'm gonna wake up one morning next year and realize that my grades are too high to recover from. Peace out.

Coming soon: The story of Hannuka

Six and Counting

2005-12-05T15:56:00.000-07:00

I've found that blindly following in the paths of others is a lot easier than actually trying to sort through and deciphere the ridiculous ramblings of the voices in my brain. So when other people that have blogs stop posting regularly, my natural defense mechanism is to curl up into a tight ball of limbs and pubic hair, and mimic their actions in hopes of surviving the harsh winter. Other than that I don't really have an excuse for not writing. It is the end of the semester, so I have been shitting on myself more than usual, but that's really no reason not to write. Even in the worst case-scenario, I still have one free typing hand while the other one diligently fishes pellets out of my BVD's.

I really shouldn't be wasting my time like this. I have a lot of school work to neglect in the next week if I plan on extending my impressive current streak of 6 straight college semesters with a declining GPA. Not everyone has the will, determination, and strict masturbation schedule to sustain such a long and arduous recession. Finally, I'm proud of myself for something other than tricking women into having sex with me. People who read this site must think that I'm a huge asshole.

Breaking News: Murph Spends Four Hours Saturday Morning on Computer

2005-11-19T15:11:00.000-07:00

The Answers: Part One

2005-11-10T09:21:00.000-07:00

Captain,
The answer to your question is not as simple as it might seem. In many ways those less fortunate than us are just as deserving of love and respect as anyone else. In many other, better ways, however, they definitely are not. You see, feelings should always be given on a horizontal level of worth. For example, a homeless person has every right to recieve admiration from other homeless people, but it is completely unacceptable for anyone with a home to distribute such feelings. So in closing, those less fortunate to you specifically should never be considered equals. However, it can be argued that they may, in some instances, be worthy of the rudimentary adulation of their peers.

P.S.: Studies on the souls of the less fortunate have been inconclusive.

Kara,
Although I can't answer your specific question with any degree of certainty, in general, daddies do drink becuase their children have wronged them in some way. Other possible results of your crying or bad behavior include your parents' arguing, infidelity, or divorce.

Gynagirl,
The answer to your first question is also dependant on the surrounding circumstances. If the touching has only occurred infrequently and has been followed immediately by excuses and apologies, then it is best to keep the pain inside and pass it on later in life. Also, if the person you are reffering to is a trusted family friend or a productive member of the community you may want to consider the ramifications of your confession on their hard earned reputation. It should also be considered that if you were a child and not an adult, my advice might be different.

For your second question, it is completely ridiculous to think that it's raining because God hates you. The scientific fact is that rain forms when fairies make love. Just remember, if God really hated you, he wouldn't cry. He would vengefully take the lives of the people that you pray for.

Keep the questions coming and I'll answer them in following posts.

Ask Uncle Murph

2005-11-09T18:40:00.000-07:00

Ask Uncle Murph. It works just like it sounds. You ask me whatever question you want and then I get drunk and molest you. I stole this idea from another blog and I'm not gonna give them credit for it. I justify stealing ideas by telling myself that it's no different from when I steal money or valued possessions from people. That eases my tiny mind. So go ahead, whatever you need to know. Need to know how to write in cursive? How to please a woman? Where babies come from? Well I don't know any of those, but you can try some others if you want.

Selling Navigators to Drug Dealers for Over a Decade

2005-11-08T08:38:00.000-07:00

This is a real commercial:

"If you want a quality diamond at a wholesaler price, come on down to J. Edwards Diamonds. On Renaissance, two blocks south of Costco."

How can Albuquerque be considered a real city when businesses give directions by their proximity to Costco?

"Come on down to Murph's Ford, Lincoln and Mercury. We're movin' out the '05 Mustangs with 0% financing. Located on Highway 60, next to that big tree. You know, the one with all the cones?"

I'll Try to Have Sex With You, But I Can't Make Any Promises

2005-11-06T14:57:00.000-07:00

This weekend I almost had sex with one of the.....heut..hooouuuh...mmhhhhmm...huuuhh.. OK, I'm good......fattest girls, maybe ever. Maybe not ever, I've watched a few shows on the Discovery health channel, but it wasn't good. I'd reach for parts of her body and come up with completely different parts than I was looking for. Everytime I had my eyes closed and I thought I was starting to get there, my penis would grab me by the back of my hair, pry the corners of my eyelids open and yell in my ear, "Don't look away now, you coward! You did this! Face the decision!". Then all the blood would flow back to my vital organs where it belongs. I'm not saying this to be an asshole. This is just the facts, and it's my blog, and anyone who doesn't like it can suck my floppy unresponsive dick. The embarassment of a soft penis is a fair exchange for not having to deal with the type of regret usually reserved for murder. I'm out. Don't forget to honor our veterans this Thursday or something. Whenever Veteran's day is.

Europe: Where the Beer Flows Like Wine

2005-11-03T13:30:00.000-07:00

The Eubank Sam's Club is going international. I've been looking at my site statistics and I predict that the engaging and informative content of the ESC is just what Europe has been craving. Sure, on the surface they may appear to be consumed by drugs, crazy sex, and childish economic unions, but if you look deeper I think you'll see that what they really want is sporadic posts of run-on sentences, horrible grammar, and jokes about pooping. Just to give the regular readers a heads-up, this move could be complex and may involve me changing my religion, political philosophy, and/or sexual orientation. I may also start writing in a more intellectual style, seeing as how people from other countries are usually smarter than me.

Hah! Euros look like play money.

What? You Know You Like Boyz II Men.

2005-11-02T17:36:00.000-07:00

Even though I'm not completely sure what it stands for, I think I have PMS. I'm not depressed, but I do feel like giving up, dropping out of school, and spending the rest of my life stuffing tampons into my holes and trying to give myself oral sex. I think I need to steal some money and I need to do it soon. And I'm not talking about faking the time sheets at my $7 an hour job. I'm talking about robbing a bank and taking enough money to send me away for a lifetime of getting my asshole pounded by any inmate with ambition and the ability to overpower a 6'1'' 160 pound Boyz II Men fan. See, because I'm at the point in life where I realize that I'm never going to work hard enough to actually earn that kind of money, but not yet to the point where I'm willing to give up my dream of owning a 24 karat gold suit of medieval armor. Say some prayers everyone, this is a dangerous time for me.

Racism, Robot Hookers, and Sexist Jokes

2005-10-25T18:24:00.000-06:00

How can I be expected to write posts everyday? I can't even think of things to talk about with my grandma and she can talk for an hour about a trip to the circle K. Maybe a new rule should be that if I don't leave the house all day, I can't write a post. I know that would probably cut my output by at least half, but when I try to write on days like this it just turns into a 3-page movie review of Alien vs. Predator.

What can I talk about? Rosa Parks died today. That's news. I bet she'll be mad when she finds out that heaven is segregated. Wait, what am I saying. I'm sorry, I should think before I write stupid things like that. Everyone knows that women aren't allowed in heaven. Wow, I make jokes like that and I wonder why I don't get laid more often. You know I'm joking ladies. Besides, heaven is full of baseball and robot hookers. You wouldn't like it anyway.

Come On, Sigourney Weaver Is a Good Actress. Remember Galaxy Quest?

2005-10-19T16:54:00.000-06:00

I've decided to let you, the public, decide what I will wear for Halloween. I'm going to give you a few options to chose from, or you can write in your own. But if you write in your own, it better be good. Otherwise you may lose a little bit of your place in my heart. I don't mean to make threats like that, but that's just the harsh reality of life. Feelings change sometimes. So don't fuck this up.

Choices:
A. Reinhard Heydrich
B. Gumby, but you'll have to be Pokey. Not dress as Pokey, BE Pokey.
C. The mummified corpse of Hubie Brown

D. John Ritter's ghost
E. One of the "things we don't speak of" from The Village (Sigourney Weaver).
F. Young Jeezy

There you go. Six choices. Don't spend too much time thinking it over though, I'm really just gonna spend the night drinking Gordon's Vodka and throwing eggs at retirement homes.

Anabasis, Inc.; Home of the Whopper

2005-10-12T18:03:00.000-06:00

I've changed the name of the blog. I was watching the movie "Face/Off" last night and I realized that I came up with the name "The Asspage" when I thought that Face/Off was a good movie. From there I decided that I can't really trust the judgement of 1997 Shane.

As for the new name, I figured that I needed something that said "progress". Something that shouted to consumers that I'm smart, but not too smart to give your money to. So instead of coming up with a name like that myself, I went to thesaurus.com and typed in "progress". Then I picked a word that I didn't recognize and made it my blog title. I'll be changing it periodically over the next month or so. It's easier than making real posts.

The Asspage Guide to the Origins of National Holidays

2005-10-10T18:43:00.000-06:00

Due to the overwhelming popularity of my last post, I've decided to make a short list of some other holidays and how they came to be.

Thanksgiving - This one dates back to 1492 when God took a rib from Christopher Columbus to create the Indians. Indians were later gathered up and herded into designated areas in retaliation for strictly upholding their end of numerous agreements with the American government.

Arbor Day - Arbor Day was made to celebrate the Union victory at the Battle of Arbor in January 1861. When the seven cotton states seceeded from the union, Abraham Lincoln authorized a pre-emptive nuclear strike on Arbor Mississippi in a desperate attempt to free the slaves.

Valentine's Day - Maybe the oldest of the holidays, Valentine's Day was created by an angel named St. Valentine that was sent by God to Earth to subjogate the poor and spread love among the priveleged few that were divinely granted feelings and emotions. The legend of cupid is a little harder to track down. It's mostly derived from myth and folklore. I think at some point in the past, a person saw a baby on Valentine's day. I believe it was holding a bow and arrow of some kind. It may have been hunting.

Easter - This holiday was created in the late 19th century to commemorate the invention of the egg. Although the exact timing is a subject of some debate, most experts believe that sometime around 1980 the holiday was moved to a Sunday in spring in order to coincide with the fledgling Christian celebration of Jesus' resurrection.

Veteran's Day - Veteran's Day is a farely new holiday, created by Major League Baseball to recognize the contributions of players that have been in the league for at least 3 full seasons.

President's Day - Throughout history, democratic societies have elected officials to head their governments. When people want to get off of work in these societies, they create days like President's day. In the United States, the day honors Abraham Lincoln and George Washington. Abraham Lincoln is famous for being the first king to be arrested for treason, and George Washington is famous for the huge number of slaves that he bought and sold throughout his lifetime. Sadly, Washington was never recognized while he was alive due to the negative connotation of the time associated with having wooden teeth.

Halloween is Older Than the Pyramids

2005-10-07T13:04:00.000-06:00

Now that it's officially October, and not just implicitly October, I wanted to let everyone know that my favorite holiday is Halloween. Not because of the candy or costumes or because I'm a pedaphile. I like it because for one day out of the year, my penis is "fun size". The only thing that I don't agree with is how people celebrate Halloween for the wrong reasons nowadays. I wish that we could all forget about the commercialized holiday and go back to the heart of Halloween celebration: The birth of satan. On a brisk autumn day in late October, I think even before the Egyptians, a magic dinosaur gave birth to the devil. Ever since then, people have lived in fear of the devil for 364 days out of the year. But for one day, we all get to forget about our diabetes and throw caution into the wind while we stuff our faces with Laffy Taffy and poisoned gummy worms. So if I don't post again before the 31st, have a happy Halloween everybody, and be safe.

WACC = WdKd (1-T) + WsKs

2005-09-20T08:25:00.000-06:00

I don't know how many of you are aware of this problem, but every Saturday between 1 and 2 p.m. mountain time, Univision plays a softcore porn dance show called Caliente. For no less than an hour every peaceful Saturday afternoon, my penis is bombarded from every direction by crazy camera angles and indiscernible musical babbling. That's for an entire hour. Do you know how many times I can masturbate in an hour? Eleven. You read that right, eleven. I had to skip class on Monday, I couldn't exercise, and I hardly got any of my scheduled "free time" finance studying done. That's where I pick a section of the Wall Street Journal that wasn't assigned and I study it anyway, then I give myself an edgy, controversial discussion question and write a short paper on it (That is if I can keep it short, am I right?). I even had to cancel my book club for Sunday, which sucks because if I don't get my thoughts on Flowers for Algernon out soon I might have to start hurting people again. And those are just the effects on my social life, I didn't even mention that the masturbating is causing some unusual soreness. I'm telling you, if Univision doesn't cut back Caliente to a half hour, I'm afraid that future generations of Murphs are in serious jeopardy.

In other news I think as I get older I become more and more of a ..... hallucinagen....hermaphrodite....hemophiliac....hypochondriac. That's it, hypochondriac. It's always the last place you look. Right now I'm convinced that I have lead poisoning from the pipes in my house that may or may not even be made of lead. I've had a few headaches and I find it hard to concentrate lately; even on exciting things like calculating the optimal capital budget for a company by finding its weighted average cost of capital and graphing it on an investment opportunity schedule. Basically, I just don't feel right. Maybe it's nothing. If I don't post again for a week, assume that I'm dead.

Photo Caption Contest

2005-09-14T14:14:00.000-06:00

I needed my fix:

1. Just as Dr. Butler had expected, the news that Kathy had an inoperable malignant brain tumor was considerably softened by the racist Korean joke.

2. Using only a stethoscope and a fake medical folder, 20/20's John Stossel proved just how easy it can be to defraud unsuspecting mamogram patients.

3. Routine check-up patient Kim Wong's cheerful attitude changed abruptly when Dr. Butler casually stated, "after looking over your measurements, I guess rice cakes must not be too low in fat".

4. The friendly conversation took a turn for the worse, when Dr. Butler asked Ms. Sazaki if she would sign his favorite headshot of comedian Margaret Cho.

5. What had previously been a strictly professional conversation, immediately became awkward when Dr. Butler revealed a graphic enlarged 8X10 photo of two elephants having sex.

Make It Strawberry-Banana

2005-09-09T12:28:00.000-06:00

I'm starting to relate to fat people more and more everyday. Don't get me wrong, I'm still better than them just because I'm not fat. That goes without saying. I'm just saying that I'm starting to understand where they're coming from when they try and fail so many times at their useless attempts to diet and join the rest of the normal, good people in society.

Wait, this is coming out wrong. I think I'm sounding a little insensitive. Let's try this again: Fat people aren't completely useless. Their lives can at least serve as a useful and entertaining model that I can observe and denigrate for my own personal enjoyment. There, that's better.

I'm already a little off track. What I'm trying to say is that I'm pretty skinny: 6'2'', 165 pounds with my clothes soaked in urine. And I think that it's just as hard and frustrating for me to build muscle and gain weight as it is for fat people to not eat cookie dough straight from the tube. In fact, I think that it's even harder. Yeah, fuck that. It's fucking harder. Fucking fat people, walking around like they own the world. The only thing that fat people have to do to lose weight is eat healthier and eat less. I already eat healthy, but I have to spend more money and more time to eat more food. If lunchtime rolls around I think that it's easier to just do nothing than it is to go and cook and eat your third expensive, disgusting, healthy meal so that you can put on a quarter of a pound a week. You should see the sizes of my shit. It's fucking record-breaking. That's enough fat-bashing for the day. I'm just bitter. Let's call a truce, fat people. Just for now. I'll buy you a milkshake.

Real Men Wear Striped Turtlenecks

2005-09-02T19:30:00.000-06:00

I have a scanner now too, so here are some of the only pictures from Mexico that are clean enough to be shown on the internet. Plus, as a bonus, I threw in my 2nd grade class picture. Turtlenecks with rollerbladers on them were the shit in 1991.

Drunk and waking up confused in the middle of some surprised strangers.

Me and my buddy counting the dead hookers and adjusting the spare tire to make room for the heroine.

"Alcohol? Alcohol is for losers! Let's go buy parachute pants and Bobby Brown cassettes."

Which End Does My Penis Go In?

2005-09-01T18:49:00.000-06:00

I have a digital camera to use now, so I figured I'd put a slide show of a conversation between me and my brain from my last sexual experience. Enjoy:

Brain: "Wait a second...yes, I think she just touched our penis."

Me: "What do I do now?"

Brain: "....Is she a stranger?"

Me: "Are you retarded? She's been here for the last three hours. It's amazing that we've ever done this before."

Brain: "Ummm....do you have a condom?"

Me: "Yes."

Brain: "Expired?"

Me: "Good thinking, let me check."

Me: "Looks good. I thought that was a hole for a second, but I think it's just an ant."

Brain: "We shouldn't be holding the condom up like this, she's gonna leave."

Me: "Hold on a second....How is my penis gonna fill this up?"

Me: "Of course. I'll tie it off and use it twice."

Brain: "Good job, fucker. She's been gone for an hour and a half."

Me: "This is fascinating."

Pictures from Mexico and of my ass will be here soon.

A Penis Walks Into a Bar

2005-08-24T16:12:00.000-06:00

There was a morbidly obese woman in the news recently who went to the hospital for pain and gave birth to a kid, even though she didn't know that she was pregnant. How can you get to the point where you are so fat that you don't notice the added weight of an entire human being? I've eaten whole babies before. You can tell when one is inside of you. They put up quite a fight.

Sometimes I just wish that I could go back to simpler times. You know, when the line between right and wrong wasn't smeared with raw cake batter and discarded cookie tops from double stuff oreos. I mean, what would George Washington have to say about this? I don't know either, but it would probably be something at least indirectly racist.

My professor wants everyone to bring a joke to class today and he's gonna call on random people. He said not to tell anything offensive, but I don't really consider any of my penis jokes to be offensive. For a joke to be offensive, it has to contain a widely recognized racial slur AND a distasteful reference to the Holocaust.

I Spit Hot Fire

2005-08-19T10:16:00.000-06:00

For the readers who aren't already stalking me, I thought that I'd let everyone know that I just moved into my pimped out new house last Thursday. It's complete with pool, jacuzzi, and a courtesy bucket at the front door for girls to drop off their panties as they walk in. The only problem is that I don't exactly have what you would call a bed yet. I do have a pretty classy set-up with two blankets folded up on the ground in the shape of a bed, with a family size pack of warming sensations condoms on the the floor. But that kind of got ruined when a girl threw up on them on Saturday night. Now I just have some towels on the floor and throw-up on the side of my toilet. But still, pretty classy.

Also, another semester of school is starting, so you know what that means: more illegitimate children to turn my back on; And learning, lots of learning. My degree is in hip-hop. Peace out.

Where Can I Buy Fresca?

2005-08-18T13:52:00.000-06:00

It's around 2 o'clock and I'm pretty bored since I'm the only one here at work. Usually when I'm bored, I just touch myself. But that would be inappropriate at work since it's not Friday. That means that there's good news and bad news for you readers. The good news? I'm out of staples, so I'm posting. The bad news? It's just two long, long lists of stuff that I like and of stuff that I hate. Ready?

Shit that I like:
1. Fresca, the upper-class Squirt
2. Katy Zachry, the morning newswoman on KRQE CBS news channel thirteen. Katy, when we're not together, I'm thinking about you.
3. Pineapple upside down cake
4. Antiques Roadshow. I almost put an apostrophe on antiques
5. Over the pants dry fucking
6. Baseball
7. Dry fucking baseballs
8. The movie "Rain Man"
9. The smell of freshly cut grass
10. Ray Charles, but not his eyes

Shit that I hate:
1. "All Jacked Up" by Gretchen Wilson
2. Darryl Worley
3. Alan Jackson
4. "My Give a Damn's Busted" by Jo Dee Messina
5. Tuna. When someone says, "What smells like dick?", the answer is always tuna, unless someone has their dick out.
6. Eggs. You know that something sucks if you don't even like it with melted cheese on top. I even like Darryl Worley when he has melted cheese on top of him.
7. Terrorists. I hate anyone that puts me on orange level alert.
8. People chewing with their mouth open. In my ideal world, mouths would be used exclusively for oral sex.
9. Thinking
10. Throwing my hands in the air

I'm a Doctor of Physio..lomofobo....logy.........

2005-08-10T15:39:00.000-06:00

Most of this post is in response to an anonymous comment that someone left on my last post. I won't make you go down and click on the comments link and sift through the hundreds and hundreds (maybe even thousands) of comments to try and find which one I'm talking about. I'll just copy and paste it right here:

Reading your blog and I figured you'd be interested in advancing your life a bit, call us at 1-206-339-5106. No tests, books or exams, easiest way to get a Bachelors, Masters, MBA, Doctorate or Ph.D in almost any field.Totally confidential, open 24 hours a day. Hope to hear from you soon!

Needless to say, I jumped on the opportunity to earn a PhD in almost any field. I was so excited after reading this comment, I was thinking, fuck it, I'll just get a PhD in every field. I mean, they're open 24 hours a day. It couldn't take that long.

So, the first thing I did was immediately withdraw from all my upper level finance classes. Then, I made sure to call the university and officially sever any and all affiliation I might still have with the business school. After that, all that was left was step three: call 1-206-339-5106 and get my life on track. Here I am, fucking around with tests and books for three years, when I could have been well on my way to becoming a doctor by now. Who knows, maybe I could even be a professor and teach the graveyard shift at my new university. But then again, this place does seem pretty high-class. They probably have robots teaching most of their courses by now.
There's really no limit to what they can do at my new school.

It's even confidential, like the AIDS test I just took through the mail or the erectile dysfunction medicine that gets delivered to my door in a flower box. See they thought ahead and knew that I would want to hide the shame of taking courses at the least respected educational institute in North America. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing but respect for someone who advertises their unaccredited university by anonymously spamming people's blog comments with run-on sentences and personal insults about the author's career path and direction in life. That takes a special type of courage that can't be taught. But come on, this is the school that paralegal students make fun of when they shop for rims with their cousin from the Pima Medical Institute for Veterinary Assistants.

So, anonymous, if you decided to come back and follow up on your offer, then give me a call. If you don't want to do that, I guess I'll see you in a couple of weeks when classes start. As for anyone else, Happy Holidays and I'll write again soon.

I'll Lube It Up and Slide It in Like a Gentlemen

2005-07-28T13:32:00.000-06:00

I found a couple of drunk pictures of myself on a friend's digital camera and I'll probably put them on here in the next week or so. You know, just to give all you ladies out there somethin' to get you to the finish line while you're workin over the old snatch. In fact, I think I'm gonna sell my pictures as a lubricant in the KY Jelly aisle. I'm lonely.

"Are You There God, It's Me Murph" By Judy Bloom

2005-07-18T08:40:00.001-06:00

I often wonder what it is you have in store for me God, but whatever it is, it's always something new and exciting. Whether it's an STD or an unexpected pregnancy that needs to be terminated in its second trimester, I'm always kept on my toes.
Well, I'm getting to that age where I'm beginning to mature into a young adult and change can be scary. Once a boy passes the age when it's OK to have sex with high school girls, it's the end of something special. But, I know the future holds good things, too. I'm looking forward to my first period, the first time I kiss a boy, and getting to the point where I'm so old and fat that I have to pay for sex. What else could be on the horizon? Wonderous things like drug overdoses, car accidents, or life in prison? The anticipation is the best part.
I guess that's all for now. I'll write again soon.

Love,
Murph

Post Title

2005-07-15T16:41:00.000-06:00

I have a phone again, so anyone who wants to call me during regular business hours, just let me know. Or maybe I'll just give out my cell phone number here on my blog. I'll be like Mike Jones, except with more rapping talent.
"Back then, they didn't want me. Now I'm hot they all on me."
Fuckin' wordsmith. Anyway, shit is blowing up here at work. I've got all these clients calling me, offering me all these jobs. Oh, wait. There's just a lot of filing. I get filing and people mixed up a lot.
Good news. It's only 1400 degrees today. We're in a high pressure front...........so, that's working out.......so how are you guys doing?

I Celebrate All July Holidays With Fireworks

2005-07-06T10:27:00.000-06:00

I'll start posting here from work more often now, I promise. I don't know if that's going to excite anyone or not. I guess it's more of a threat than good news. Well, let's see. What's been going on? I've been listening to a lot of sports talk radio lately here at work. The seven hour discussion yesterday about whether or not Kenny Rodgers should play in the All-Star game was both sexually stimulating and thought-provoking. What else? This cup of water I'm sipping on is pretty refreshing. In fact, I find it to be both sexually stimulating and thought-provoking.
The fourth of July weekend could have been better. I just moved all my shit into a friend's house for the next month while he's out of town, so I don't have a phone. But on the bright side, I did get to here about fifteen people tell me, "Damn, dude, I tried to call you on Saturday. We all flew to Amsterdam for free, and after this guy blew both his hands off with illegal fireworks, they were giving out free, 24 karat gold blowjobs with huge bowls of strippers covered in Reese's Puffs cereal."
Alright, maybe not exactly in those words. In the interest of saving time, I just took all the best parts of each person's story and put them all together. I'll tell you all about my weekend at work next post. That'll get you to come back.

I'm Steve Stucker, Thanks for Tuning in to Channel 4

2005-06-21T12:28:00.000-06:00

I've been drinking too much lately. Drinking and Domino's Philly Cheese Steak pizza need to be removed from my life. If I keep it up like this, in a few months I'm gonna be skinny and fat at the same time, and that's no good for the poon-tang department. I can't help it though, if I go out sober how am I going to justify banging ugly girls? I wish someone would throw me an intervention with some strippers and a keg of Dos Equis.
If anyone cares what I've been doing, I started a new job at school so now I only have to work at my other job on the weekends and when I feel like killing myself. My new job mostly consists of typing, filing, and suppressing the half-erections I get from the girls that I work with. I think that this has been the worst post of the year. I think that I'll end it with the local NBC meteoroligist's daily reminder: Take some time out today to really enjoy your life and may God bless. I'll do that Steve, you fucking bitch.

Healthy Living Tips From The Asspage

2005-06-12T13:37:00.000-06:00

One night back in late May, I drank a fifth of 1800 brand tequila, went to a cowboy nightclub, drove home drunk, ate two Enzytes and tried really hard to focus long enough to get an erection, passed out on the floor at 4 a.m., woke up at 6, rode 40 miles north of Albuquerque, met up with the Sandoval county sheriff's department, ran three miles carrying a torch in the 2005 Special Olympic Torch Run, and threw up oranges and gatorade out of the Bernalillo city Portable Crime Scene Unit van. Then I had brunch with a few friends and took it easy for a while. I'm just now regaining my strength, so I thought I'd let all of you know that I'm not dead. It's sounds like I made that up, but it really is true. Well, everything except for the brunch. It was actually around noonish, so I guess it would be more accurate to just go ahead and call it lunch.
Anyway, you've probably already had some kind of funeral ceremony with an empty casket where each of you threw in an item that reminded you of our special relationship. One person threw in a piece of paper with this website address written on it, the next dropped in a mouse pad and a Sam's Club Advantage Discover card while a tear ran down their face. You know, like the movie Castaway, except with a better ending. But just to let you know, I am alive and well. I'm not a doctor or anything, but I feel good. You know, pretty good. I mean, sure I have occasional chest pains, but who doesn't? I'm sure it's nothing.
As for the future of the blog, I'm thinking about switching it up a little bit. Maybe turning it into kind of a homebase for my missionary work. You know, just to keep that edge; keep it from getting boring. Keep checking back and I'll hit you guys up in another couple months.

If I Didn't Fear Sodomy, I Would Kill the Person Next to Me

2005-05-09T18:18:00.000-06:00

So, today I was sitting on my couch naked around 3:30 this afternoon watching a Dr. Phil episode about overbearing mother-in-laws. There's really no story that goes with that sentence. It wasn't a particularly entertaining show, and nothing out of the ordinary happened while I was watching it, I just wanted to get it down in writing so that I can look back on it as an old man on my death bead and realize that it's not about the destination, it's about the journey. You know what I mean? I figure that I'll need to think about something to get my mind of the eternal damnation that will be only minutes away. The smooth soothing voice of Dr. Phil can walk me gently down the burning stairs to hell while I ponder the regrets that I have from my life, like that time that I could have had sex with that ugly girl, but I did another beer bong and fell asleep instead.

If You're an Accountant, I'll Suck Your Dick (Not Really)

2005-04-29T21:50:00.000-06:00

I'm stuck on one question on my online accounting quiz, so if anyone can answer it for me before 11PM, I would appreciate it:

The Cloward Company uses a standard cost system in which manufacturing overhead is applied to units of product on the basis of direct labor-hours (DLHs). During August, the company actually used 6,100 direct labor-hours and produced 2,500 units of product. The standard cost card for one unit of product includes the following data for manufacturing overhead:

Variable Overhead: 2.5 DLHs @ $3.00 per DLH
Fixed Overhead: 2.5 DLHs @ $2.50 per DLH

For August, the company incurred $16,150 of fixed overhead costs and recorded a $625 favorable volume variance. The denominator level of activity used by Cloward in setting the predetermined overhead rate for August is:

A. 6750 DLHs
B. 6000 DLHs
C. 6250 DLHs
D. 6500 DLHs

I Need a New Watch

2005-04-27T18:39:00.000-06:00

Not only has Mrs. Pettit not given me a grade for my well-thought out essay, she deleted the following post where I said, "Please excuse the tardiness of my response. -Hiram Grandiose". So now none of her students know my name, and none of them can click the link to my Hiram website that I spent minutes upon minutes creating. But what I don't understand is why she left my original anonymous essay question response. Maybe she liked it. Oh, make sure to visit hiramcountry.blogspot.com

Wait, Wait, Wait. Not Yet, Sign This First.

2005-04-22T14:49:00.000-06:00

I've come up with the following form contract for anyone that wants to engage in a standardized, controlled, sexual experience. Feel free to present this document to your spouse or significant other, preferably in the presence of a lawyer. This contract can also be used as a part of the seduction process at night clubs and bars. This is an incomplete version, and the contract will be added to in subsequent posts.

Agreement:

(Legal stated name of man), hereto referred to as Party A, and (Legal stated name of potential woman partner), hereto referred to as Party B, agree to all clauses and conditions of the following express, bilateral, concurrent, executory service contract.

I. Terms of Service
II. Scheduling
III. Supervision
IV. Termination
V. Indemnification
VI. Additional Encounters

I. Terms of Service: In order for successful completion of the contract to occur, Party A and Party B agree to the following mutual exchanges:

a. Specifications:

a-1. Description of Services to be Rendered
The minimum allowed level of service of each party, as to result in acceptable completion of contract, is to include, but not be limited to, ejaculation of Party A and fake orgasm of Party B. This can be accomplished through any one, all, or combination of the following methods, to be discussed in further detail in subsequent provisions:
i. Oral stimulation
ii. Anal intercourse
iii. Vaginal intercourse
Any additional acts not included in this list can be added only on the condition that Party A and Party B can reach a written, mutual understanding, prior to, or while in the act of, their sexual encounter.

i. Oral: Oral contact will consist of a predetermined amount of lubrication, provided at the expense of the receiving party. Acceptable amount of scratching resulting from the improper use of teeth and/or facial hair will also be at the discretion of the receiving party. Oral contact can be severed at any time without retaliation by either party, or by a court-appointed, neutral, mediating third party.

ii. Anal: Amount or allowance of anal intercourse will be determined upon Party B's complete review of Party A's prior experience in said area. Proper documents clearly presenting Party A's current certification by the A.N.A.L. will, however, transfer decision to Party A.

iii. Vaginal: In the instance that both parties agree upon vaginal intercourse, all proper precautions against sexually transmitted diseases and unexpected pregnancy to be named later in this document will be required at all times. It is also agreed that any unnatural odors eminating from the vagina will constitute material breach of contract and will be subject to penalty of law.

a-2. Damage
Any witnessed damage to equipment, genitals, or surrounding area shall be reported immediately to the opposite party. Parties shall notify each other of any existing deterioration in the lining of the anus or vaginal walls prior to sexual contact.

a-3. Post-sex clean-up
Genitals shall be washed clean and free of saliva, smears and visible soap residue. Accumulated dirt, paint specs, or other foreign debris must be scraped from testicles or outer vagina in a gentle fashion. Surrounding area shall be scrubbed to remove all dried dirt, insects, debris and other materials so as to be considered clean by the owning party. Pubic hair shall be washed clean and all drippings wiped dry with a towel, comprised of a 60/40 cotton-polyester mix.

Hammering at Life? I Don't Get It.

2005-04-20T20:19:00.000-06:00

Since everyone wants to harass someone so bad, I'll give you the website of some guy who's life you can ruin. It's hammeringatlife.blogspot.com. He's come up with this idea that his wife will stop hating him if he starts doing what he calls, "BILY's", when in reality, she is just sorry that she married him.

The Puppy's Name is Mr. Belvedere

2005-04-19T16:21:00.000-06:00

I would give out Mrs. Pettit's blog address, but I don't think that you guys are mature enough for that level of responsibility. It's a very subtle type of harassment that needs take place, as to not scare away Mrs. Pettit from continuing to use the blog for her class. The blog needs to be nurtured and cared for, with only a small hint of neglect at first. Then, when I think the time is right, and I have gained the trust of the class, I will send a deadly airborn virus to Mrs. Pettit through FedEx. I just think that if the blog got into the wrong hands, something bad might happen.
I'll tell you what, I'll give you all a puppy for a week, and if you can feed it, bathe it, and take care of it to my satisfaction, then I'll think about giving you the website. Let me know if you are interested and I will wrap the dog in bubble wrap and ship it by priority, overnight mail. Or maybe I'll save some money and ship it two day.

Mrs. Pettit, Meet Hiram Grandiose

2005-04-12T20:59:00.000-06:00

If you want to know what I think is funny, here it is. I was sitting here obsessively clicking the "next blog" button when I miraculously stumbled upon the greatest site that I have ever been to. The blog is intended to be used for Mrs. Pettit's tenth grade honors literature class. The post said this:

Prompt #3 - Please post by 10:00 p.m. on Tuesday, April 13th.
As the novella progresses and comes to a close, Equality certainly questions the morality of his society (as we discussed in Prompt #1). Describe the change in his perspective of his society, and WHAT SPECIFIC EVENTS bring about this change. Remeber to write at least 4 sentences to receive credit.

Cleverly posing as Hiram Grandiose, tenth grade student, I replied with this:

As the novella progresses, Equality's perspective of his society changes from one of ambivalence to one of apathy. Morality becomes more of an afterthought as Equality begins to rationalize his ambiguity in terms of adolescent behavioral tendencies. Vehement homogeneous presumptions perpetuate an inaptitude of systematic gregarious presupposition. Symbolic emergence is also essential to the abstract intimation of Prometheus' adjudication of the extraneous ambience.

Please forgive the tardiness of my reply

-Hiram Grandiose

Needless to say, harassing Mrs. Pettit will now become a regular part of my routine for the foreseeable future. Yes, Mrs. Pettit, you will rue the fucking day that you thought that you could use your blog as an innocent, helpful, classroom tool. Hiram Grandiose will make sure of that.

I Won't Be Able to Live With Myself If I Post This

2005-04-11T20:26:00.000-06:00

I know that you all like to keep up on celebrity news, so I figured I would update you on how things are going in my life. First, my computer got some kind of sexually transmitted disease from having unprotected sex with all the porno sites that I usually visit after I finish posting on here. So, all my posts will be coming from school until further notice. This could be a good thing since the guy that is sitting next to me seems to have taken it upon himself to read over this paragraph. Hopefully his intimate knowledge of the streets will help him contribute some editing or proofreading of some sort. In exchange, maybe I can give him a toothbrush and let him use my shower.

Also, I got a job at Sam's Club, where, from what I understand, I will be some kind of direct personal assistant to Sam and be overseeing the day to day operations of the club. Plus, now I can get a 15% discount when I buy inflatable backyard swimming pools and snack-vending machines in bulk. Now that I think about it, I probably won't need those swimming pools since I will soon be living underwater.

In sports, Al Lucas of the Los Angeles Avengers died peacefully in his sleep due to an apparent spinal cord injury during the first quarter of the Avengers game with the New York Dragons. Oh wait, no, he was playing in the game. I was the one sleeping. You know, because the Arena Football League sucks. God, I feel like a piece of shit for saying that. Can I justify it by saying that I can't feel sorry for everyone who dies everyday? Just because he played football doesn't mean that I should feel anything special about his death. No, I still feel like an asshole. But I can't erase it. Shit, what do I do? I'll leave it up as an example of how not to act. Yes, sweet, sweet, conscience. Rest peacefully tonight, my love. I've fooled you once again.

If I Wasn't Already Going to Hell, I Definitely am Now

2005-04-04T20:10:00.000-06:00

If you don't already know by now that the pope died a few days ago, you're probably going to hell with me. It's OK though, I hear that it's been unseasonably cool there lately. And I guess I'll see you there. If you want to find me, I'll be the one wearing a 1991 walkman, listening to Arizona Diamondbacks games on AM radio. And I have a banana/peach colored 1983 Lincoln Mark VII with broken windshield wipers. If you look in the passenger side window, you'll see a cereal bowl and an empty bag of Nutter Butter minis. I think I might already be in hell now that I think about it.

To get to the point, I'm going to hell because I don't care that the pope died.......at all. When I overheard the news from two girls while I was hiding behind their park bench stealing things from their backpacks so that I could smell them later while I masturbate, it was like hearing the news that a gigantic new whole was found in the ozone layer. 1) it doesn't affect my day to day life whatsoever; and 2) It increases my sunscreen budget by an insignificant 25%. Wait, I guess the pope's death didn't really increase my sunscreen budget directly. Bad example. Anyway, who gives a shit if the pope died? Even if I was catholic or even remotely religious, I don't think that I would care. Not because I'm a bad person. I mean, that's true, but the real reason is that whenever someone dies, I always ask myself the same question: What have they done for me lately? All that I could come up with for the pope was a tape I saw once of him watching a performance of break dancers. And that only gave me a chuckle, at best. Why should I be sad over the death of someone who devoted their lives not really to helping people, but more to reading a bunch of shit in Latin and randomly distributing incense. Ok, I'll admit that I don't really know anything about the pope, or any of the good things that he may have done over the one thousand years or so since God or somebody made him the pope. But think about it, I've read a bunch of things in a real language like English and no one is going to remember me when I die. So why should the pope be remembered? I'll let everyone think about that for a while.

In closing, when remembering someone who has recently passed away, it is essential for the people who are left behind to think of themselves, rather than the legacy or achievements of the deceased person. It is in this way that we truly honor the memory of people who were too old to contribute anything meaningful to society or make rational decisions. I hope that my post has helped somewhat in your mourning process, and may the new pope bring many years of joy to your blackened hearts.

Think of the Homeless

2005-03-30T12:35:00.000-07:00

I know I never post anymore, but I've been really, really busy watching college basketball and playing MVP Baseball on Playstation 2. I apologize for depriving the world of my concentrated love, it's just that when I write on here I feel like I have to live up to a certain expectation. And when I don't live up to that expectation, I get angry and murder homeless people. And regardless of your own personal feelings about homeless people, you would have to agree that that might be an unhealthy way of venting my frustrations.

And Summerlin, I'll post the picture of Jack Kerbo as soon as I can find out if he is still alive or not. I think it would be in poor taste to put it up if he recently died in some horrible car-battery related accident. It might take awhile to find out where he is, though, since I don't care and refuse to look. And next time you're in Albuquerque give me a call and the two of us can go out and have a completely heterosexual good time.

As for the pictures from Mexico, I gave them to a friend of mine who works at Wal-Mart to get them developed and they should be back soon. But let me warn everyone in advance that there may be some behavior in the pictures that is unbecoming of a strict Russian orthodox gentlemen such as myself. Also, keep in mind that the pictures were taken in Mexico and it would have been rude to insult their culture by ignoring the ancient customs of public lude acts and intoxication. I was merely maintaining my belief of respecting the values and wishes of dirty Mexican taco-stand street vendors. Just because I'm in another country doesn't mean that I'm gonna compromise my core values.

$1 Tacos + $1 Beer X 1,000 Beers/Tacos = Family Fun

2005-03-21T19:17:00.000-07:00

I'm back from Mexico alive, where the Dos Equis flows like unsanitary tap water and stripper poles grow like trees. Good news, I managed to avoid the majority of intestinal parasites and possibly even the outwardly visible sexually transmitted diseases. I have about 60 pictures and I might even post a few if I can find a Walgreens that doesn't frown upon amateur hardcore porn.

I Wish I Had a Sofabed

2005-03-08T21:45:00.000-07:00

Have you ever seen those commercials on TV about the space-age visco-elastic memory cell mattresses? Apparently NASA has a huge bedding department, because the ad says that these mattresses were developed for astronauts. I don't know about that, but it's beside the point. I want to talk about the kind of people that buy them. The matress toppers cost about $150 and they're always being bought by some fat, impoverished, part-time supermarket cashier that I would bet my vast fortune is about an overpriced mattress away from living with me down at the Joy Junction homeless shelter.

So what are they really doing with these things? Are they taking them back to their summer home in the hills and resting comfortably as their illegally confined dolphins quietly nudge them into a sound sleep with a sweet serenade that sounds as if it came tumbling down from heaven? No. I think that they're taking it home and putting it on the pull-out sofabed.

The commercial has a demonstration of how your "partner" won't be disturbed, even if you are moving around, getting up early, or eating cheese whiz straight out of the can. I bet he's more disturbed by the fact that his wife has packed on 85 pounds in state fair turkey legs since he signed over his soul to the devil on your wedding day. Or maybe he's disturbed by the fact that you ruined the last mattress you had when you dropped the squeeze bottle of melted chocolate cake frosting that you were eating in bed.

The demonstration has a woman jumping up and down on the mattress while a glass of wine stays upright on the end of the bed. But I have a feeling that no one who's spending thier last $150 on an infomercial mattress topper is going to be lying around sipping fine wine. If the ad was realistic, it would say something like, "With the use of our patented visco-elastic memory cell technology, look at how the Milwaukee's Best doesn't fall over, even while your husband has sex with the babysitter", or, "Look at how the lotion stays up, even while he's feverishly masturbating to the visco-elastic memory foam infomercial".
I think that paints a picture that consumers can relate to. I need to be in advertising.

I Want a Picture of Gregory Hines' Corpse

2005-03-04T22:57:00.000-07:00

I found a website yesterday that claims to be able to get any reasonable photo request that is submitted to them. The site is called photorogue.com and I found it courtesy of whippetgood.com, a useful blog that mainly caters to refrigerator and small appliance sale and repair. What I wanted to say about photorogue is that it's a pretty good idea, in theory, but I'm really reserving my final opinion until I find out if they can satisfy any of my photo desires. After discarding a few ridiculous ideas, I ultimately decided on submitting the following two requests:

1. A picture of a dandilion tied to the collar of an albino irish setter by cinnamon dental floss, with a see-saw (preferably yellow) clearly visible somewhere in the background.
2. A picture of a pair of Rawlings brand baseball cleats sitting in a punch bowl full of pennies AND sitting underneath a hand-operated water pump. You know, the type that you might find near an old farmhouse in the midwest. (Note: cleats can be substituted with tap shoes, but only on the condition that they can be proven to have once belonged to Gregory Hines)

Just to convey the urgency of these requests, I will double the fee of nothing that I am paying to photorogue.com to anyone who can retrieve these photos before the site can. No time to waste everyone, let's get to work. I suggest starting your quest by combing the local dog pounds and hitting your neighborhood Payless.

Why Was Mickey Rooney at the Academy Awards?

2005-03-01T20:28:00.000-07:00

Warning: The following post contains adult language, adult situations, and graphic descriptions of sexual acts. If you are easily offended, please refrain from reading this post. If you think that you are not easily offended, but possess any type of class or self-respect, caution is still recommended.

I just boned my history test. Not just boned, I took it out for an expensive dinner, made it pay for the food, then took it home, sodomized it, finished in 30 seconds, and ended with an uninvited porno-style money shot because I said I would tell it when, but I didn't. Then, I stole gas money from its purse before I kicked it out. And you know what else? I told it that I would call, but I'm not going to. All this was figurative, of course.
I got a little carried away there because last week my accounting test did the same thing to me and I got it even worse. Problem number 2 by itself not only did all those things, but it then beat me with the unbridaled passion of a hate crime to the brink of death and left me for dead in the middle of the New Mexico desert. Luckily, I managed to regain enough strength to hitchhike my way back to Albuquerque by giving handjobs to truckers. Figurative truckers. God that's disgusting.

To conclude, have you ever been at home alone picking your nose when you get ahold of one that goes so deep that it feels like you're pulling repressed memories out of your subconcious?

Also, I saw Mickey Rooney in the audience of the Academy Awards and I think he may need to be put down. It's just not fair to the rest of us. He's just hanging on, and it's sad. He looks like a partially melted Mr. Potato-Head that you might find at a garage sale for 25 cents because some kid left it on the radiator overnight.
My posts suck.

I'm a Racist

2005-02-25T13:26:00.000-07:00

I'm in love with Jennifer Garner. Wait, let me rephrase that: Jennifer Garner and I are in love. It's getting pretty serious. I'm even thinking about taking our relationship to the next level and giving her knowledge of my existence. I was analyzing the multi-dimensional aspects of my feelings for her while masturbating to Alias, when I figured out that a small part of my infatuation might be racial. I think that I might find her so attractive partly because I relate to her because she's white. Don't get me wrong, I'm no racist. In fact, I'm totally in favor of wetbacks trying to swim across the Rio Grande to steal jobs; or African-Americans being able to recieve an unfair advantage when being considered for scholarships or employment. It's just that for some reason I find girls like Faith Hill and Jennifer Garner more attractive. If some people want to misconstrue that as being racist, then I simply have to consider that their personal blind ignorance. Wow, who else thinks that I might have stepped over the line back there? Well, I guess that's why the Constitution specifically grants the right for hateful blog comments.

Apartment Capacity: One Jizz Towel, By Order of the Fire Marshall

2005-02-17T23:33:00.000-07:00

I saw a flier around campus yesterday while "studying" (street slang for doing crank in a library bathroom) that said that you can get either a free drink, bag of chips, or cookie, from Blimpie's if you sign up for a student credit card. Anyone who can read this can tell that I'm no genius, but who signs up for a credit card to get a free drink from Blimpie's? Wait, what kind of person eats at Blimpie's at all? And what kind of person does crank in library bathroom? Anyway, if I'm gonna sign up for a credit card I'm gonna want something more than a 21% interest rate and a choice between a big grab of Fritos and a medium Mr. Pib.

I'll close out with a question to think about:
What's more likely?
1) I set my apartment complex on fire by leaving my iron on next to some oily rags and frayed jumper cables.
2) I set my apartment on fire by putting shake 'n bake chicken in the oven and falling asleep with a lit cigar in my mouth.
3) I set my apartment on fire by throwing a flammable jizz towel on top of a lamp and leaving for work/school.
4) I set my apartment on fire in any other way.

It Puts the Shampoo on Its Hair

2005-02-14T17:22:00.000-07:00

I'm about 90% sure that my landlord is stealing my underwear. Six months ago I had at least 15 pairs and now I'm down to about 4. One day when I see him going into his apartment I'm gonna bust in after him and there will be a closed circuit t.v. set up with my bedroom showing on it and he'll be naked petting a small dog. See, he watches me go to work and then he sneaks in, masturbates in my shampoo and steals my underwear and wears them later. I know it's disturbing to think about, but I mean, come on, I have some pretty overwhelming evidence.

I Eat Hot Dogs Naked

2005-02-09T13:59:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking over a few ideas for a marketing project, but I wanted to run it by someone before I turned it in. So here it is, let me know what you think:

Wake up at noon? Spend the last two hours masturbating to VH1's "Driven: Gwen Stefani"? Well, you're in luck, because now there is a soap that was developed with your genitals specifically in mind. Dial has introduced the new clean-rinsing Genital Soap for Men. With Dial's Genital Soap for Men, you can have the best of both worlds. It's tough enough to scrub dried ketchup out of your coarse pubic hair, yet soft enough to gently cleanse the sensitive inner lining of your anus.

Also coming soon from Dial: the new On the Go Foaming Snatch Wand, from the makers of the Clorox Ready Brush. For the professional woman who needs to get fresh fast, it's the new On the Go Foaming Snatch Wand from Dial.

B+? A-?

John Steinbeck Gave Me a Cold

2005-02-03T21:36:00.000-07:00

I've had a consistent cough for a couple weeks now and I don't know what to do. I've tried everything. I've consulted my astrologist, contacted numerous holistic healers, and tried many other modern medical treatments like leaching and bleeding the infected area. I've even gone so far as to have my humors balanced to counteract the extra phlegm.

Despite all of that, the progress has been marginal, at best. So considering that I was raised by TV (who may or may not even be my biological father), I've come to the conclusion that I should take a different plan of action and improve my appearance. See, because from what I gather from exercise equipment informercials, the better looking you are, the healthier you become. So, I figure I'll go out and buy some new clothes, or something. After that, the only other alternative is plastic surgery. I was thinking that I could go onto that MTV show "I Want a Famous Face", that has obviously been cancelled and have an unproven surgeon, who I've done absolutely no research on, hammer away at my face until my nose slightly resembles the nose of Johnny Depp's character in Donnie Brasco. It doesn't have to be exact, just enough to fend off common colds and keep me from crying myself to sleep.

But, then again the cold might not be physical, it could be psychological. It might have something to do with my Dust Bowl-style sex drought. If it goes for much longer I'm gonna have to start calling my penis Okie. Okie and the Grapes of Wrath. I'm sure someone else has already used that, but I'm gonna use it anyway.

I don't know, maybe I'll just try some cough syrup. Any other suggestions for curing the cough will be appreciated.

In Case of Emergency, Place Your Genitals in the Upright and Locked Position

2005-01-31T16:44:00.000-07:00

I was walking by one of those emergency poles that I'm sure are on pretty much every college campus in America on my way home from class the other day and I noticed that above the big, red emergency button there are instructions in brail. From that point I have about ten minutes left on my walk home, so my mind inevitably wandered far enough away from the non-stop, three-way lesbian fantasy to play out how that emergency might go down. I started to think that if a blind person was in an actual emergency, how would they find the emergency pole? And assuming that they do happen to accidentally run into it, they would probably be frantically swinging for the emergency button instead of carefully going over the numerous and complicated steps neccesary to operate said button. I can imagine the thoughts that would be going through their head if there were no brail instructions:

"Oh, thank God! An emergency call box!
Oh, no!
This can't be happening!
There are no instructions!
FUCK! HEEELLLP! HEEEEELLLLLLLP!
Oh God...someone.
What do I do?
I can't just push the button.
What if it's the "everything is OK button?
I can't risk it.
I'd rather die right here.
Do you hear me God!?
Campus security! Why didn't you put brail instructions?
This is your fault!
I will haunt you in death!
My vengeance does not end tonight!"

What it comes down to is that if someone actually wanted to kill a blind person, (and let's face it, we've all been there) the blind person would be virtually defenseless, regardless of the number of red buttons and flashing lights at their disposal. I'll spot a blind person two flashing bicycle reflectors, bright-colored clothing from head to toe, a walking cane, a pair of sunglasses, and an aging seeing-eye golden retriever and I guarantee that I could still take them down before someone noticed that I was performing my monthly hate crime. Wow, thinking about how lucky I am not to be blind almost makes me want to change out of sweatpants and go to class. Almost.

2005-01-18T13:21:00.000-07:00

I've just recieved a customized/automated e-mail from blogro...wheel....com, and they've added my blog to their site. I'm a little caught off guard, I mean, I don't really have a speech or anything. First off, I'd like to thank the creator of all things, big and small, without whom I would not be able to make it through the struggles of the daily grind. This divine entity is, of course, the company that makes the Great Value products for Wal-Mart. It's because of their undying love for me that I can return from a one-stop trip with a patio set, miniature candles for a birthday cake, and replacement hinges for my garage door opener. I'm even typing this post on a Great Value computer. I'd also like to thank my talent agent, Sony Entertainment, Motown Records, and L. Ron Hubbard.

Cooling Sensation

2005-01-16T21:24:00.000-07:00

I've come to realize that paying extra for the Head and Shoulders with the "refreshing cooling sensation" might not be worth it. Wait, wait, I know it sounds ridiculous, but just hear me out on this one. It doesn't seem like such a good idea when it's January 16th and I'm a huddled mass of arms and pubic hair, sitting underneath the showerhead curled into a ball to protect my vital organs from the onset of hypothermia and praying for God to delay the upcoming state of inevitable thermal shock. It's about that same point when I realize that I might not be able to leave from under the warm soothing water for a considerable amount of time and my eyes start to instinctively dart around the bathtub looking at every item in terms of sustinence. When I stare into the cold, dead design on the front of the shampoo bottle, my first thought is that a "cooling sensation" in my scalp doesn't sound as compelling as it did when I was standing in the aisle at Wal-Mart in a sweater and Gortex jacket in mid-July. It got to be about 5:15 when I started bringing up old memories of random trigonometry equations, frantically trying to calculate the survival rate of trip to the sink to eat the toothpaste. The situation went something like this: (I stole the format from edadkins.com, the site of a talented, upcoming horse whisperer from Nevada)

Heart: "Let's go for it. It's our only hope."
Central Nervous System: "Are you crazy? Core tempature is nearing a critical level."
Brain: "You realize that we might never make it back."
Mouth: "Thanks for that stunning realization, dickhole."
Penis: "Hah..... Dick."
Brain: "Calm down! We all need to stick together. There are only two ways out of this shower. Choice number 1: To the toothpaste and out the door alive (looks around intensely)......or choice number 2: three days from now, in a body bag."
.....silence.....
Right hand - "maybe we should masturbate."
blank stares from all
Right hand: ".....for warmth, I mean......for warmth."
Brain: "Let's get down to business"
(everyone meets in a huddle as camera zooms out)

The events that followed were as harrowing and courageous a tale as has ever been told. Until half-way through my trip, the phrase "hindsight is 20-20" was just a phrase. Action, suspense, and forbidden love join each other to tell a story of the fight in one young man and his ultimate search for truth in himself. Only after you've surrendered everything, can you gain true understanding of what it is to be human.

Ying-Yang Twins Honored

2005-01-13T22:10:00.000-07:00

Government officials released a statement earlier today stating that a curious object discovered on the surface of Mars by the NASA rover was found to be nothing by an ordinary weather balloon released by the National Weather Service to track unauthorized cumulonimbus cloud formations in the Nebraska plains. The weather balloon had been reported missing over a decade ago and is said to have romed off course into the lower Martian atmosphere. Some of the possible explanations for the location of the weather balloon given by authorities were: 1) Severe winter storm activity in the midwest United States; 2) off shore winds related the recent tsunami of southern asia; and 3) anticipation of the soon to be released "Coach Carter", starring Samuel L. Jackson. Conspiracy theorists claim that the weather balloon explanation is no more than a cover-up for a mysterious alien substance that is being explored as a possible source for natural male enhancement. Others claim that it is just another step in a long string of events that includes the assasination of JFK, the War of 1812, and the "We Card" tobacco prevention program, orchestrated by the government to distract the world from the premier of the communist-laden ESPN original series "Tilt".
In other news, in honor of the upcoming black history month, BET has announced that on February 11th they will devote their entire programming schedule specifically to black entertainment. On February 12th they will return to normal programming with the Ying-Yang twins hosting a marathon of the best of Club Comicview. The channel will remain exclusively black but can no longer legally be reffered to as entertainment.

Urine is the New Black

2005-01-12T10:52:00.000-07:00

*Note: The following post may contain some sexual material presented in a purely medical context.

I'm not even sure if this post will have sexual material, but I just find that note to be appropriate for this site in general. Anyway, I know why you're here. You've seen Mr. Blackwell's newest 10 worst-dressed list and you just couldn't wait to hear my thoughts on the subject. Well, first off, I was a little surprised to see Serena Williams come in at number 6, am I right girls? It turns out that she was not too pleased to see her name on said list, which is understandable. We can expect to see some backlash on that one coming towards you Mr. Blackwell, you silly goose! That brings me to the next biggest surprise on the list: me at number 4. I really think what cost me this year is that time last July when I took the trash out to my apartment complex's dumpster in my green urine-soaked sweatpants and knee-high snow boots. But I did bring my Louis Vuitton dog-carrier and wear an old navy pullover that I stole from the back of a pickup truck at Wal-Mart, so I guess I'm not really sure what the problem was. But just to let you know, Mr. Blackwell, you will rue the fucking day that you put my name on that fucking list of bullshit, because I'll fucking kill you. And if you think I'm joking Blackwell, just try me you gay piece of shit. I fucking dare you! The only fucking list you're gonna make is the back page obituaries, you worthless fucking piece of mother fucking fuck!
Wow, that got out of hand pretty quick. Let's just calm it down and end on a good note. I hear that the U.S. Marines are gonna scale back the tsunami aid, so that's good news for all involved. I mean, why help people who aren't even white in the first place, when we could easily be rounding them up and killing them for sport in a massive man-made booby-trapped biodome filled with gold? Answer me that.

This Week in Glamour: What Makes the Perfect Woman?

2005-01-11T13:14:00.000-07:00

Believe it or not, I have sometimes been accused of being less than sensitive to women's feelings when describing the..."boneableness" of a broad. So, to clear up any confusion, I've come up with a flawless rating system for women that not only takes appearance into consideration, but also personality and presence of venereal disease.

10. This is purely hypothetical, but her features would most likely include (but not be limited to) having multiple vaginas and an ability to perform oral sex while cooking.
9. Still mostly relegated to folklore, a rating of 9 is reserved for only the most beautiful and quiet of women.
8. The highest realistic rating on the scale, 8's are usually downgraded to 7's or 6's after their inevitable psychotic tendencies start to emerge. This emergence generally takes 2-3 weeks to arrive, like something you order off of TV.
7. Beautiful, but not full of herself, a 7 is marriage material.
6. 6's come in two forms: 1) Good-looking, but a huge bitch, the majority of women fall into this category. 2) Funny, great personality, but let's face it, Ray Charles would struggle to get wood, even with a bag over her head. But then again he's dead, so there you go.
5. 5's are a dime a dozen. They are a combination of two or more of the attributes from list one and list two.

List 1:
semi-attractive face
nice-body
money

List 2:
overweight
large benign tumors
sexually transmitted diseases

4. It starts to go downhill from here. A 4 most likely is coherent and generally aware of their surroundings, but is morbidly obese or ugly beyond the possibility of surgical repair.
3. 3's contain the unattractive physical characteristics of a 4, but lack a conscious understanding of time, thought, or their own existence.
2. Now we start to get to the other extreme end of the spectrum, and just as was the case with 10's and 9's, 2's and 1's are rare, if not mythical. A 2 would not only possess numerous distinguishable hideous physical disfigurements, but also a severe mental condition that could lead to violent outbursts.
1. 1's are literally beyond my comprehension. And although evaluating such a disgusting woman is outside my professional qualification, I would have to assume that coming in physical contact with a 1 would undoubtedly have serious consequences on a man's long-term sexual function.

Feel free to leave your own lists/hateful repsonses in the comments.

Hey Santa, can you bring me a Hello Kitty sleeping bag and a normal mental capacity?

2004-12-22T22:58:00.000-07:00

I've been lucky enough to be really drunk a few times in my life, and more than a couple of these times I've wondered if being drunk is anything like having down syndrome. From that point, without having any medical research to back up my offensive and ridiculous theory, I've decided conclusively that the answer is yes.
So, given these recent findings, I've naturally moved to the next step and concluded that God hates retarded people. I can't really find another reasonable explanation. That's all. Merry Christmas.

Shane want Juicy-Juice!

2004-12-10T19:20:00.000-07:00

After some in-depth analysis, the chances of me making a triumphant return to school next semester is actually starting to look like a possibility. I figure that all I need to do is get an 80 or better on my Spanish final, a 45 or better on my finance final, an 85 or better on my organizational and cultural diversity for homosexuals final paper, and about an 80 or better on my international business final. That will give me an impressive 2.501 grade point average, which will send me soaring over the minimum requirement of 2.500. God, that's pathetic. My GPA has slowly and steadily decreased in parallel conjunction with my living brain cells and my sexual function in each of my 5 semesters at college. By this time next year I should be spasmically tapping out my requests for food with my padded walking cane, and blinking the answers to yes or no questions while wading in a shallow pool of my own liquid excrement. At least I hope I can make that kind of progress.

C-SPAN is bad for your liver

2004-12-09T17:26:00.000-07:00

I just realized today that the difference between my grades being very good, and being what they really are, isn't really that much. I figure that it comes out to about one full day of actual work. It's just like the way that a girl's eyebrows connecting could be the difference between her rejecting me or liking me. It's very subtle. Now I guess I'm off to study. Nothing like a night of financial equations and theories to crush my creative spirit and dreams for the future. And if that doesn't do it, I'll drown them with some Keystone Light and Parliament meetings on C-SPAN 2.

Pabst Blue Ribbon Cost Me Sex. Again.

2004-12-07T14:53:00.000-07:00

I went to a bar this weekend and watched my friend's cousin's boyfriend's band play. Needless to say they were incredible. Actually, the drummer was pretty good, but overall they pulled out a fat cock and stroked it for about an hour. Figuratively, of course. The night wasn't a total loss though. I did get pretty drunk there on $1 Pabst Blue Ribbon. But for some reason that I still don't completely understand, women weren't throwing their panties on me like they usually do. They weren't even throwing them in my general direction. I guess I don't really have to count it as a failure for me personally, since technically I wasn't even in the bar. I don't turn 21 until this Saturday, yet a strikingly handsome 25 year-old airmen in the U.S. Air Force named Jeremiah J. Moody managed to get into the bar without much trouble. Let's all take a minute and thank the good Lord for forcing his desire for me to drink upon uninterested bar ID checkers. God doesn't listen to your prayers, though. You'll have to thank him in the comments section instead.

Breaking News: This Post Has No Title

2004-12-02T16:59:00.000-07:00

Let's face it, there's nothing to write about except what happened today in my life. I'm just not creative enough to make up something good. But there's one major problem with that: No one wants to read about my day. I don't even want to read about it. I don't even want to write it. Let's try it anyway, though. I'll even let you watch TV or masturbate while you're reading.
Ok, I woke up at 7:30 for my 8 o'clock class and I still haven't taken a shower. In fact, I don't think I'm gonna take one today.
Now that I think about it, I don't even want to admit what I did the rest of the day. I spent all day today re-creating the 1994-95 Houston Rockets and the 1991-92 Chicago Bulls on ESPN NBA 2K5, then playing TWO FULL 12 MINUTE QUARTER GAMES. Think about that for a minute. That's 96 minutes of game time, and that's not even adding in the free throws, the time between quarters, and the replays I watched after almost every play. All together, it probably took about 5 hours. I'm not sure, but I think that there might be more productive ways to spend 5 hours.
And now I just got out from a 4 o'clock class and am writing this post. I plan on filling the rest of the evening with more action, and will fill you in as the events dictate. I jsut felt like I had to post something before my fans start to forcefully demand a post in the overflowing comments section. So, that's what you get for being impatient; a shitty post with misspelled words. Are you proud of yourselves?

Lick my balls Alabama

2004-11-29T16:42:00.000-07:00

I've decided to take a break from my search for amputee hemaphrodite beastiality to post here and share a piece of my soul with you. Just a piece though, not the whole thing. I wouldn't want you dragging it down to hell with you. Just in case I give away too much, I always keep enough cash on hand to buy back 51% of my soul to avoid a hostile takeover.
My story for everyone today starts on a brisk autumn day at Supercuts. I hardly ever talk to the person cutting my hair, (partly because I hate small talk and partly because I'm better than them) so I'm free to listen in on the unbelievably insightful conversations that take place between the "stylists" and their customers. It was the day after Thanksgiving, so the holiday was the topic of discussion between who I'll refer to as "Pedro Humberto Gutierrez" and "Obesity McFarlane". It was then that the man brought up his belief that "we celebrate Thanksgiving for all the wrong reasons."............Thanks for that one Pedro. Go ahead and shelf that comment you fucking idiot.
"cause it's all commercialized, you know?"
Either shut up and eat your fucking pie, or go celebrate it "the right way" by murdering Indians.
After this turn of events, the unnamed voices in my head and I (we've decided that it's best that they remain unnamed because unnamed = brainstorming, named = crazy) went through very careful deliberations and ultimately decided that it was in everyone's best interest to end this guy's life in some way. It came down to either a jumble of obseneties, flying arms, and temporary insanity; or waiting until he walks outside and hitting him with my car.
The plan never actually went through, because as I was preparing it, I remembered an obscure and rarely-used law that frowns upon pre-meditated murder. After remembering this law, if you choose to recognize the authority of the Alabama state judicial system, my two prior convictions for soliciting a prostitute and misdemeanor drug possession have to be taken into consideration. If I decided on murdering the guy, it could possibly be misconstrued as my third strike. And just like when you play baseball, after your third strike, you're sent to federal prison. That's about all I have for that story. Now I'll just sit back and wait for Reader's Digest to knock on my door.

Can't Miss Hit

2004-11-22T18:21:00.000-07:00

Hold the phones, whores. I think I just....wait...yes, I have an idea. Nope, lost it. Ok, a few hours have elapsed since I wrote that first sentence and now the idea is back. It's a lot worse and completely different than whatever the old idea was, but some people would classify it as an idea. Ok, it's for a sitcom. It's a situation comedy and it stars Don Cheadle and the robot from Short Circuit 2. Here's what I have so far:

Don: "Hey robot, do you remember that conversation we had about my plan to steal money and precious, irreplacable possesions from my co-workers and friends?"

Johnny Five: "Ah, yes. I remember it like it was yesterday."

Don: "But it was this morning. You mean you remember it like it happened longer ago than it actually did?"

Johnny Five: ".....System error."

Don (While smiling and shaking head): "Oh, Johnny Five, we love you."

And......scene.

Well, what does everyone think? I can't tell because an artist can't really objectively critique his own piece of art.

Will posting on my shitty blog make my problems go away? How about drinking? I'll try both just to see.

2004-11-20T09:16:00.000-07:00

Let's see a show of hands: Who else here besides me is so fucking sick of writing college papers it makes them vomit up the mind boggling amount of bud light and southern comfort they were drinking all of last night and most of the early morning? Come on, I don't see any hands. All I see are the words I'm typing on the screen. Fine, if no one feels like cooperating then I'll just continue with the comical genius. I know I bitch more than a bitchy bitching feminist skank bitch on the rag, but I really am tired of school. I'm starting to wonder if it's really worth my incredibly valuable time. I mean, I could always join the coast guard or something, right? Seeing as how there's not really any realistic prospect that a woman that I would ever consider marrying even exists, I won't really need a high-paying job to support any family or buy any louis viutton handbags or whatever worthless shit it is that old and unhappy married skanks screw their husbands over for. Wow, that sentence was way too long. I could change it, but the cursor is already way down here, so I'm not going to. Anyway, I won't really need a lot of money unless I happen to recieve a court summons to a child support hearing from the lawyer of some fat and ugly bar whore that I prematurely ejaculated into 2 years ago. I'm not even sure if there would be a court hearing for something like that or not, but that's beside the point. My point is, no matter what a highway stand medicine man may try to convince you of, never shave your genitals with a dirty shard of volcanic glass. It can be more dangerous than you might think.

I Hate You

2004-11-11T15:23:00.000-07:00

You're not smart, you're not good-looking, and no one cares what you think. So stop writing about local politics or cooking or your paintings on your blog. It's obvious that no one likes you. The only thing blogs are good for is humor, so stop using words like amorphous and cognitive because I'm not completely sure what they mean and I'm way way too cool and lazy to find out. You're never going to lose weight or get married or get rich. Stop blindly backing up right into my path in the aisle at Wal-Mart and almost running into me without even realizing it. Stop wearing spandex capri pants that don't fit and force me to look at your hideous camel toe. Stop bumping Trick Daddy music with your boyfriend in his 1992 Dodge Shadow. Just finish your semester at the International Institute of the Americas and go become a paralegal for a few years until your husband kills you because you cheated on him with his cousin Julio.

Nestle Quik Makes My Tongue Feel Like Chocolate

2004-11-09T20:31:00.000-07:00

I hate when girls give you all the signals and then when you go and talk to them they just reject you like some kind of sexy Dikembe Mutombo. Not a good analogy? How about a sexy Mark Eaton? Former Utah Jazz center Mark Eaton? No, still not doing anything for you? Anyway, I think they do it on purpose. It's like when a dog plays with a crippled mouse before they eat it. Or like when I knock the prosthetic legs out from under crippled people. No, come to think of it, it's not really the same as that one at all. Hey, that's a nice fingernail I just clipped there. That's going in the "keeper" pile of fingernails, not in the "throw away later" pile of fingernails. Actually, I'm not sure which pile is which. They kinda got mixed together when I put down this month's copy of Good Housekeeping on top of them. I really need to start labeling my piles and being more careful before I damage one. One of them could be worth something someday. I've been doing some ratio analysis and I feel a surge coming on in the market for foil freshness protecters from Nestle Quik containers.

Breaking News: Jorge Vagina is Re-elected

2004-11-04T17:33:00.000-07:00

All right everyone, you heard it here first. Well, either everyone or just Ed and Tom. Who am I kidding, everyone knew like 14 hours ago. Wait, what day is it? It's Thursday? I could have sworn that Wednesday was after Tuesday. Well, then...no breaking news from The Asspage I guess. Anyway, Jorge Arbusto was re-elected yesterday or two days ago or something, and with Larry King as my companion, I struggled through a night of twists and turns; ups and downs. I laughed a few times and I cried a few times. But that didn't have anything to do with the election. It was just because I ran out of milk for my corn flakes. But now that it's over, the new day brings with it a new Shane. A new Shane that is changed for the better. Even though I don't really care who won, I now carry the memory with me that I was almost interested in something that didn't involve group sex. Just interested enough to watch CNN, but not interested enough to actually register or vote. Let's not get carried away yet. I'm just gonna take it one step at a time. (My voice fades into the theme song from Mary Tyler Moore.)

Wait...so Kerry is the Ghost?

2004-11-02T14:07:00.000-07:00

I haven't updated in a while because I've been pretty busy masturbating to Red Sox playoff highlights. Seriously though, I want to talk about the presidential election that is being voted on today. Perhaps some of you have heard of it. From what I understand, a fellow named John Kerry and a fanatical religious group is attempting to overthrow the current king, George Bush. And while I don't really follow politics, I don't think that I could continue to feel good about referring to myself as a douche bag if I didn't offer my incredibly knowledgable insight into the election. But, on second thought, since I make up these posts while I'm writing them, I've changed my mind. The remainder of this post will be movie reviews of Saw and The Grudge.

I'll start out with Saw. It's pretty good. And not just, "I watched it in the theater and there were lots of bright colors and loud sounds" kind of good. I pride myself on being the asshole who tries to guess what's gonna happen in movies and then says it out loud to whoever I'm watching it with (usually just myself). But I didn't see the ending of this movie coming. And just to put that into perspective, just realize that I'm probably smarter than you and I still didn't see it coming. I usually like movies that I can't figure out. But I am a little disapointed in myself to tell you the truth. I don't feel like giving away any of the story, and you don't want to read it anyway. God, is there anybody who finds my writing interesting? It's making me sick. On to The Grudge.

Let me start out my review of The Grudge by saying that if you regularly leave movies saying things like, "Daaaaaammmn, that movie was off the chain!" or "It was good, but it wasn't as good as White Chicks", then just skip my review and head straight to the theater because this movie is for you. For everybody else, join me on a fantastic journey as I try to explain how terrible this movie is in under 10 pages.

First, I think that for a movie to be scary there has to be some kind of build up of suspense, so that you don't know what's gonna happen next. In this movie, here's what's gonna happen next: Ready? There's a ghost. Did you see it? No? Don't worry, because there goes another one. From almost the very beginning there is nothing but cheap, startling shots of dead people. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that Seed of Chucky will have a better story than The Grudge. At least in Chucky movies they don't pretend to have some intricate plot with some jacked up timeline that keeps going back and forth between the past and present until you don't even give a shit when it is anymore. You just wish that everyone would die.

Alright, I'm sick of rambling. I could go on to explain that there's really no reason for the murdered wife or kid to be haunting or killing anyone to begin with. Yeah, I think that's what I'm gonna do. Anyone who stumbled onto this site already stopped reading about 10 minutes ago anyway. If you don't want to know the "story" of The Grudge, then stop here. Ok, so the wife and son were murdered by the dad because the wife was in love with some American professor that has nothing to do with anything. And I can't really remember if they ever showed why the dad even killed the son to begin with. Anyway, wouldn't then the dad be the one who haunted and killed people who came into the house? I guess not, because the only ghosts you see the whole movie are the stupid little kid, his fucking cat, and his mom. If you want to look past this flaw, I guess you can just pretend that it has something to do with ghosts and curses and Japanese traditions or something. Alright, I'm getting a headache. I'm done.

The Growing Ball of Hate in My Stomach. Right next to the Tostitos.

2004-10-19T14:49:00.000-06:00

This isn't going to work, but I'm going to try to convey the hate that I have for anyone who bumps their fucking stereo ALL DAY in an apartment complex. Sunday at 9 a.m.? Sounds like time for some Fat Joe to me. Tuesday afternoon? Hmmm...I feel like some Lil' Wayne. How about you? FUCK YOU! If you don't understand my pain, put your penis into a smoothie machine and let me know how you feel.

I don't need to go to church, I watch BET

2004-10-10T23:04:00.000-06:00

I was thinking about washing the floor in my kitchen today, but a gallon of milk and a box of cereal seduced me into a night of Major League II and masturbation instead. But almost washing the floor did get me thinking. Well, I'm not sure if you can call it thinking, but something was going on that made the stuff behind my face hurt, and I'm pretty sure it was thinking. This story is gonna be pretty pointless, but you're probably wasting your life away already anyway. Watching Sex and the City reruns on TBS and kidding yourself into believing that you can lose weight. Anyway, back to my story. I was just remembering back to the days growing up when washing the floor wasn't voluntary, and therefore it actually happened every once in a while. Back when my dad would make me wash the crusty pubes off all the floors in the house at 4 a.m. Sunday morning while I'm hungover and televangelists are on every channel (Even BET would have some guy named Chip Harrelson that's even whiter than my ass, what's up wit dat?). I'd be there in the kitchen with nothing but two rolls of paper towels and dish soap washing behind the broken weedwacker engine that's sitting next to, but never in, the trash. And why am I using dish soap to wash the floor, you ask? Because we aren't paying for two kinds of soap. You're gonna wash the kitchen floor with the dish soap and you're gonna like it. If you get sent to the grocery store and come back with some Mr. Clean floor soap, you'd better be able to wash the dishes with that shit. You come back with that and you're gonna be washing your ass with Mr. Clean Antibacterial for the next month. That'll learn ya. This story is going nowhere. Let's just leave it at that and all go take a nap. And it had so much potential too.

We should cherish diversity and give acceptance to others. You know, kinda like faggots and chicks do.

2004-10-08T23:10:00.000-06:00

Right now it's......little hand......four.......11:20, and I have to write 4 pages on organizational diversity for some dumb broad by tomorrow for my 9 o'clock class. I hate doing shit like this. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm all for dudes being able to sodomize other dudes in the privacy of their own gayness, but I just don't think I should have to write a paper on it. Alright, it's time to get into serious writing mode. The kind of mode that I use to minimize the racial and ethnic slurs in my school papers. Not eliminate, just minimize.

God damn it mom! I'll wake up and write in the blog tomorrow! God! Stupid mom!

2004-10-07T17:37:00.000-06:00

Writing on this shit is starting to feel like a chore. And you know how I feel about chores. And Mexicans. And sentence fragments. Besides, it's more like a personal journal than a blog. I'm pretty much just writing to myself.....again......just like when everyone in class had to pair up with a pen pal from Uganda and I was the only one who didn't get a letter back. So, there I was in class, as the teacher asked everyone to take out the letters that they had recieved from their new friends. And as Mrs. Jeffries slowly...ummm...circumvented...the room and made her way to my desk, I desperately and unsuccessfully tried to pass off my unfinished phonics homework from earlier that week as a letter from East Africa. The scar of that emotional gang-rape is still fresh to this day. Anyway, If someone will pay $2 a week as an allowance, I'll write on here everyday and make my bed. Ok, I won't make my bed. But I will try to not eat so many cookies before supper. No, no, I probably won't do that either. Give me $2.

I Still Like Peanuts

2004-10-04T21:01:00.000-06:00

As the presidential election began, I watched eagerly as two old guys attempted to sway my unregistered opinion in their favor. (And by watched eagerly, I mean left the taped replay on tv as I fell asleep on the couch covered in fruit roll up wrappers and peanut shells.) Then, I started to wonder: "Why am I watching this when I could be watching the fifth repeat of Sportscenter?". After discussing the situation thoroughly with two of the voices in my head, the mediating third voice arbitrated the situation and we all compromised and agreed upon the politically charged, sports-driven, Sanford and Son. Then, after the chaos had settled, I realized that I don't really give a shit about the debate. The real reason I was watching it was so that I could talk about it with other people who I don't really like so that it would look like I'm smart when it's pretty obvious at this point that I'm not. The point is, I don't care about the debates because they don't really offer anything new. Each guy is just trying to catch the other one's stupid mistakes so that they can make them look like an idiot. And while that's fine when me and my friends do it, I don't think that it's any reason to deprive me of the scheduled showing of "World's Most Extreme Rhinoceros Attacks 4". So, in closing, don't fall asleep on the couch with fruit roll up wrappers, they're itchy.

This Week in My Life: Introspective Thoughts From a Lonely Dreamer

2004-10-04T20:07:00.000-06:00

Doesn't life suck multiple fat cocks at once like some kind of big metaphorical japanese orgy? In the next three days I have to do more fucking homework than I've done this whole year combined. On top of that, nobody ever visits my site. Doesn't that just make you want to put a gun in your mouth and keep it there for a while as you imagine that you had enough money to buy some food instead of having wasted it all on a gun that you can't even eat? It sure makes me want to do that. Well, on second thought, I think I'll just ignore my homework for another night and continue the season I started on ESPN NFL Football on Playstation 2. I'm 3-0, but that record is misleading because I've turned the game off at least 5 times after giving up 90 yard touchdowns that lead to the type of furious rage that you only dream about. Why would my strong safety try to jump an in route by Marcus Pollard on the strong side (keep in mind that I'm in a 3-4, 3-man coverage scheme loaded with DBs), while Peyton Manning is obviously looking to the weak side for a stop and go with Marvin Harrison, who's gotten past the linebacker and is now in single coverage? Huh? Answer me!

A Hearse Named Desire

2004-07-02T11:35:00.000-06:00

Marlon Brando died somehow today, or yesterday, or something. They haven't said how yet, but I think he dropped a potato chip on his stomach while he was sitting on the couch and when he went to pick it up he accidentally ate himself.

An American Tradition is Born

2004-07-01T21:39:00.000-06:00

Let's start this whore out with a caption contest. I made this on photoshop. It's Perry Mason cooking chinese food.

Link to picture here if this one doesn't work, either because I'm an idiot or because it's a piece of shit (it's probably both).