Monthly Archives: September 2011

The Last Drug

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I was 15 years old the first time I had coffee.

I was working on a project for my 10th grade Social Studies class that was due the next day. It was a group project and worth a lot of points but I was a procrastinator so there I was at 11PM drawing maps on cardboard or whatever the fuck the project was about. Seeing me nodding off at the kitchen table, my dad suggested I get some sleep and finish the project early in the morning. I set my alarm for 5AM.

I woke up to finish the project but was in no condition to work. My dad was already up and reading the newspaper, cup of coffee in hand. Caffeine is a stimulant. I’ve seen all the sitcoms and comic strips about adults that are haggard, unkempt and mumbly until they’ve had their first cup of coffee. I thought that maybe this is just how things work now. Not getting enough sleep and using coffee to perk you up in the morning was part of being an adult. I silently congratulated myself on recognizing this right of passage and poured myself a cup of coffee. It tasted bitter and gross but I choked down three cups.

It worked. I perked right up and finished my project with a half an hour left over before I had to go to school. Unfortunately the project didn’t get turned in until the next day because I spent the next four hours violently shitting everything my body could manage to shit.

I remember hearing my dad from the other side of the bathroom door saying something along the lines of “I, uh, guess I should have told you that coffee can mess with your insides if you’re not used to it.” in a tone that suggested equal amounts concern and amusement. I also vaguely remember shouting something back to him, either “YEAH YOU SHOULD HAVE” or “THIS IS WHAT BEING AN ADULT IS LIKE?” or “THE POOPIES FEEL LIKE POOP KNIVES” but I really can’t recall.

I didn’t touch coffee for years after that. Why would I? Plenty of other caffeinated drinks in the world that taste better and don’t make my colon spasm like it got tazed. Fuck coffee. I was done.

Here we are 14 years later and I’ve just had my 4th cup of coffee for the day. How did this happen?

That beany bastard is a sneaky adversary. It starts off so innocent. Some coffee flavored ice cream gets you into the flavor. Maybe you have a friend who works at a Caribou hook you up with some free drinks. Iced mocha caramel cappuccinos are more candy than coffee. Then one morning you decide to try some of your wife’s coffee instead of going to the store for a Pepsi because it’s quicker and cheaper and goddamn does that taste good! Damn you, Juan Valdez! You’ve finally won!

Juan wins! Juan always wins...

Now I’m just another uptown hipster drinking their oversized, overpriced, foamy cup of liquid crack until they’re twitchy and unintelligible.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MIaK3hEJiX0]

 

People think he was on coke during the interview but that was all the “cuppa coffee” at work.

 

 

 

Walk On, Sluts!

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Courtney McLean invited me to “like” a cause on facebook a while back called SlutWalk Minneapolis. My first reaction was to scream “You’re the slut, slut!” but I sheathed my claws quickly and realized she probably wasn’t calling me a slut (I can be so catty sometimes). I soon found out that the SlutWalk was actually an anti rape thing and not a walk full of sluts.

I found out more about the SlutWalk (man I can’t wait for the search engine terms to hit this site after typing “slut” 50 times in one post) from today’s Star Tribune article. It seems this started in Canada where all activism starts. At a college safety seminar in Toronto, a police officer told young women that they were less likely to be raped if they didn’t dress like sluts.

I totally understand where the guy is coming from. Not a day goes by that I see a woman with some exposed skin and I have to batter down my completely natural urge to have my way with her. Not that she’d mind, judging by the way she was dressed.

What women don’t understand about men is that we are solely motivated by sex. The only reason I go to sleep at night is that I’ll have the energy the next day to have sex. The other day I was in the produce section of the grocery store trying to figure out which kind of apples would let me fuck more (the guy working there was no help).

I am a machine. I don’t yell at a car when I step on the gas and it goes forward.

Those signs might as well say "I want every man to have sex with me always."

In spite of all this, the SlutWalk claims that women are actually the victims of rape. If women are the victims of rape, then why do only 6% of rapists in Minnesota serve jail time for raping*?

Whatever your views on it may be, there’s a fundraiser at the Acadia Cafe in Minneapolis tonight and the Minneapolis slutwalk happens on Saturday. I’d go but frankly, I can’t be held responsible for what would happen if I showed up. I’m just a man.

(*stat taken from a quote from the StarTrib article by a musician. May not be true but I’m too lazy to follow up on it.)

Versatile Blogger (Not Actually An) Award!

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The other day I was nominated for a Versatile Blogger Award!  I was incredibly honored and then I learned it was just a meme thing that’s going around wordpress.  Then I realized it was still an honor knowing that there are people reading this thing other than my facebook friends and disappointed pedophiles so I thought I’d play along. Here’s the rules. I’m supposed to –

Thank and link the person that nominated me.

Share seven random facts about myself.

Pass this award on to 15 blogging friends.

Contact and congratulate the nominated bloggers.

So thank you to Broke Wife, Big City!(check out her blog! Funny stuff. Babies get punched.) I’ll treasure this fake award and place it on top of my imaginary fireplace mantle.

Rather than share seven random facts about myself I’ll just share seven random facts about Chuck Norris.

– Chuck Norris was born on March 10th, 1940.

– Chuck Norris’ birth name was Carlos Ray Norris. Ge got the nickname “Chuck” in the Air Force.

– Chuck Norris Joined the Air Force in 1958 and was shipped to Osan Air Base, South Korea. It was here that he started training in martial arts.

– Chuck Norris retired from competitive martial arts in 1974 with a record of 183-10-2.

– Chuck Norris made his acting debut in the 1969 film The Wrecking Crew.

– Chuck Norris is a staunch believer in Biblical Creationism.

– Chuck Norris has five children.

Unfortunately, even though this may disqualify me from winning the fake award, I’m not going to nominate 15 other bloggers. Mainly because I don’t even read 15 other blogs. The only other blogs I’ve read on wordpress are ones that have commented and liked this blog. Also, it seems like a lot of work. All that linking and thanking. Pass.

Hopefully I do win, though. I’ve got a speech all prepared. It’s really just Halle Berry’s 2002 Oscar acceptance speech but I have it prepared, damnit!

Wish me fake luck!

Why Does My Dick Shine?

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(originally posted on facebook in 2008.)

My dick is a mass of incandescent gas
A gigantic nuclear furnace
Where hydrogen is built into helium
At a temperature of millions of degrees
My dick, it’s hot
My dick is not
A place where we could live
But here on Earth there’d be no life
Without the light it gives

We need its light
We need its heat
We need its energy
Without my dick,
Without a doubt,
There’d be no you and me

My dick is a mass of incandescent gas
A gigantic nuclear furnace
Where hydrogen is built into helium
At a temperature of millions of degrees

My dick is hot
My dick is so hot that everything on it is a gas.
Iron, copper, aluminium, and many others.
My dick is large.
If my dick were hollow, a million Earths could fit inside,
and yet, my dick is only a middle-sized dick.
My dick is far away
About ninety-three million miles away! And that’s why it looks so small.
And even when it’s out of sight, my dick shines night and day.

My dick gives heat
My dick gives light
The dicklight that we see
The dicklight comes from my own dick’s atomic energy

Scientists have found that my dick is a huge atom-smashing machine.
The heat and light of my dick come from the nuclear reactions of
hydrogen, carbon, nitrogen, and helium.

My dick is a mass of incandescent gas
A gigantic nuclear furnace
Where hydrogen is built into helium
At a temperature of millions of degrees

I don’t know how Brody and I stumbled onto this in conversation but we’ve been laughing hysterically ever since.

With sincere apologies to They Might Be Giants

Facebook, Like Jesus or Santa, is Watching You

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Facebook just seems to be on a pissing-people-off streak lately.  Their most recent layout change had a lot of users in an uproar (frankly, I didn’t care) and now it turns out they can track what websites you visit even when you’re logged out of facebook.

The discovery made headlines after Nik Cubrilovic read a blog about facebook’s new “frictionless apps” which could allow websites to (from the hufpo article)”write apps whereby all activity on their pages can be shared automatically to a user’s Facebook profile. The aim is to make sharing more convenient, so that Facebook members can more easily browse what their friends are interested in and start conversations about common interests and activities.”

The blogger stated that it would seem to avoid a corporate info sharing orgy one would have to log out of facebook before browsing other sites. He linked his original post as a comment warning that logging off wasn’t enough.

Nik writes “With my browser logged out of Facebook, whenever I visit any page with a Facebook like button, or share button, or any other widget, the information, including my account ID, is still being sent to Facebook.”

So everytime I visit a website with one of these –

my info is being sent to facebook?  Every website has share widgets now.  In fact, what website did this picture come from?  Let’s zoom out a bit and find out.

AAAAAHHHH!  IT’S TRACKING MY PORN!

Facebook knows all the porn I’ve been watching!  My stepmom’s on facebook!  Facebook’s gonna tell my stepmom and Thanksgiving’s gonna be all weird now!

Thanks for ruining Thanksgiving, stupid facebook.

State Rep John Whitmire: “Last Meal Shlast Shmeal”.

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If a news story starts with a Texas politician opening his/her mouth, you know it’s not good.

 

You’ll never see a story that reads “Texas Senator drafts world peace amendment” or “Texas lawmaker solves economic crisis”.  It’s always “Texas Legislature considering seceding from US” or “Texas Lawmakers offer $200 bounty for heads of scientists”.  I’m only using the slightest hint of hyperbole in these examples.  Don’t believe me?  The Houston Press just reported that State Rep John Whitmire successfully petitioned the Texas Criminal Justice Division to stop serving last meals to death row inmates.

 

Stating in his letter “Enough is enough”, Whitmire was outraged that former living person Lawrence Brewer ordered two chicken fried steaks, a triple meat bacon cheeseburger, a cheese omelet, a large bowl of fried okra, three fajitas, a pint of Blue Bell ice cream, a pound of barbecue and a half loaf of white bread before being shut off forever. Frankly, I’m surprised that meal didn’t give him a fatal heart attack right on the spot.

 

Bra-fucking-vo, Texas. You’ve certainly outdone yourselves on this one. Your justice system was already widely considered the most fucked up and heartless in the nation when you showed you had no problem executing the mentally handicapped and now you won’t even give them a fruit roll-up and sippy cup of milk before you whack ’em? Impressive.

 

My biggest concern is that the article didn’t state exactly what problem Sen. Whitmire had with the last meal other than it’s an “extremely inappropriate” privilege, “one which the perpetrator did not provide to their victim.” (protip – we’re supposed to be better and more merciful than the murderers)

 

Is it the cost? The law states that last meals can’t cost more than $40 and even if that’s an issue, this nation spends 100 million a year to execute a few dozen people (where’s the tea party and libertarians when you actually fucking need them?) so I doubt $40 is gonna break the bank.

 

Now I’m not going to go in depth about my opinion of the death penalty (don’t like it) but if we’re stuck with it we need to have a last meal. Society has spent generations romanticizing it. People talk about what their last meal would be at parties and awkward first dates. My friend, stand up comedian and oceanographer Brandi Brown shared a link on facebook to The Last Meals Project, a website showing the last meals of many death row inmates along with various death row statistics. It certainly provides a view into the state of mind these people are in right before they die and it certainly made me think about what I would order if I was on death row.

 

I’m not quite sure what I’d have for food. A nice pizza or steak. Something filling, I guess. The important part is the drink I’d have to accompany my meal. Two cans of OK soda.

I fucking loved OK soda when it was out and I’m not even much of a soda drinker.  It’s gone now and I can’t find it anywhere. I’ve tried. I always mix the soda together at the fountain whenever I’m at Burger King and I get close sometimes but it’s just not the same.

 

I’m not saying I’d commit murder to get a couple of cans of OK. I wouldn’t kill for that or any other reason. Even if I did, it couldn’t be in this state and statistically, I’d have to kill a white girl or I’d just get life in prison and no soda. I’m just saying that if you find yourself guilty of the murder of a white girl in a state that executes people, there’s your chance to get a can of OK soda. Just make sure it’s not Texas.

 

What would your last meal be? Feel free to leave a comment but if you live in Texas your comment has to be “Same thing every other prisoner is eating that day.”

The Things You Weirdos Continue to Type Into Search Engines

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About two months ago I wrote a blog about the fucked up search engine terms that eventually lead to this blog and since then, they haven’t magically become any less fucked up. Here’s some of the weirdest/funniest/most disturbing of just the last 30 days alone

KIDS FUCK:  

Late July I wrote a blog about the controversy surrounding a restaurant that banned all children under 6. Because I’m such a graceful writer I put “Hey, Kids! Fuck You!” as the title. Since then this site has seen at least three vaguely child molestey search engine terms a day. I’m thinking of changing the header of the site to say “youngnotions.com: Disappointing pedophiles since 2011”. The worst part is that writing about it now is probably going to get more search engine hits from those sickos.

חוות נמלים:  

According to google translate it’s Hebrew for “Ant Farm”.  I honestly have no clue.

PATRICK BAUER PORN:  

My friend Patrick Bauer is a stand up comedian, sketch writer and actor.  To my knowledge he isn’t a porn actor but simply mentioning his name on none of my blogs caused two search engine hits for “Patrick Bauer Porn” and “Patrick Bauer Porno”.   The logical explanation is that there’s a porn actor out there that has the same name but I think that the real (re: the one that I know) Patrick Bauer has a secret porn life that he’s hiding from his loved ones.  I refuse to find out the answer.
AN EVIL SEA CREATURE FOR KIDS SHARK:  

Okay.  I get how that term brought up this blog due to my review of Shark Night 3D(check it out!) but why is somebody looking for an evil sea creature for kids shark?  Is this going to be a birthday present for some little evil mastermind in training?

FORESKIN DONUT:  

That’s it.  This is going to be a knitting blog from now on.  We’re only going to talk about knitting.   Maybe crocheting if I’m feeling crazy.

Sick bastards.

I Have a Pipe Dream

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Just so you all don’t get confused- No, I’m not Bill. I’m Jena, his wife AKA Sugar Mama. The Provider.

It was over 6 months ago that I turned to my husband and said “how would you like to not work, to focus on your comedy career, and at the same time, be the homemaker so Jared (my son) can stay at home and do online schooling?”

And he said “Yes, please.”

So here I am writing a blog post while he and the boy are on a field trip to the science museum to play mini-golf. No, I don’t get it either. Maybe there will be geometry. Which isn’t science, but it’s closer than, say, a field trip to Chuck E. Cheese.

The Chuck E Cheese band sings the ABCs. Who says animatronic bands are creepy?

In order to have Bill play mini-golf with my son FOR SCIENCE!, we had to make many financial cut backs. The hardest of these was quitting smoking. Both Bill and I quit, and I miss it every day. I miss it so much, I have even had dreams where I’m smoking.

To dream the impossible dream.

People talk about what they would do if they won the lottery. If I won the lottery, the first thing I would do is buy a pack of cigarettes. Not Winstons, not even American Spirits. I would get a pack of Nat Shermans, and I would light up right then and there, and the clerk would say “I’m sorry, Ma’am, you can’t smoke those in here” and I would say “Wanna bet? I’m rich and I will make up the rules that best benefit me because that’s what it means to have the power of money” and then I would laugh manically, which would devolve into a smoker’s cough.

Yeah. I miss smoking.

Do Ask Do Tell

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As of today, the military policy banning openly gay men and women from serving in the US Armed Forces known as “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” is officially repealed.  Congratulations to all the homosexuals who can now legally die for a country that won’t let them marry!

While I’m glad that America has actually taken a step forward in equal rights, there are still plenty of people out there who think DADT should not have been repealed. An article on addicinginfo.org lists some of the bogus reasons people think DADT should still be in effect and why those are wrong. Here’s some other bogus reasons the article left out.

 

Myth:  Homosexual soldiers will be too busy doing each other in the butt on the battlefield to fight, costing us battles and lives.

Fact:  Homosexuals, much like heterosexuals, do not engage in sexual intercourse in life-or-death combat situations.

 

Myth:  Homosexual soldiers will refuse to wear Military issue camouflage gear due to their heightened fashion sensibilities.  They will instead wear vibrant and flamboyant colors, giving away their positions and jeopardizing their lives.

Fact:  While it’s true that many homosexuals have heightened fashion sensibilities, they are still human beings so this does not override their survival instinct.  They are serving in the military and will wear what their commanding officers told them.

 

Myth:  Homosexuals may not be able to shoot an enemy because they are physically attracted to them.

Fact:  Homosexual soldiers have as much discipline and mild xenophobia as a heterosexual soldier.

 

Myth:  If homosexuals take over the military, they will have the firepower to forcer America to become an all gay nation.

Fact:  The gay takeover of America will be a completely passive, nonviolent process that will begin by teaching children that it’s okay to be gay.  It will be so slow and subtle that you won’t know it’s happening until it’s too late.  No military force will be necessary.

 

Hope that clears things up for you!

The Ghost of Brain Damage Yet to Come

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I’ve been biking a lot the last few months for a few reasons. It’s great exercise, it’s fun and I don’t have a car right now.

In this summer alone I’ve crashed my bike three times. The first time I ran into a 8 year old girl riding her bike on the sidewalk. It was entirely her fault. We were coming at each other so I went to the right side of the sidewalk (as one should do). She freaked the fuck out and started veering right. I went even further to the right and started saying “Go to the right! No! Your right!” and ended up in the grass three feet off the sidewalk to avoid her but it became clear to me that she was playing chicken and was out for blood. We hit each other and fell down. I asked if she was alright and she nodded, got up and stood there waiting for me to walk away. I can’t be sure but I think I heard her mutter “That’s what you get, bitch.” as I left the scene.

The second time I crashed was documented in my blog here (gory pictures included!).

The most recent crash happened a couple of weeks ago when I was coming home from the grocery store. There I was biking along minding my own business when this street curb jumped up out of nowhere right in front of me. I wheelied (spell check sez that ain’t a word. Wheelie can be a verb, right?) the front tire over but the back tire was no match for him. Once that bastard curb had his way with the tire it was bent up so bad it wouldn’t move. I fell to the side causing a few minor scrapes. I spent the next two minutes on the sidewalk on my back laughing uncontrollably because I had taken the bike into the shop twice in the last two weeks for a flat rear tire. When I brought the bike in the next day to Flanders Cycle and the guy just started laughing at me.

Even though I’ve proven to have horrible coordination on a bike but insist on riding one anyway, I have not bought a helmet for myself. There’s a few reasons for this.

1. I never grew up wearing a helmet. I biked everywhere growing up in the suburbs but this was the early to mid ’90s. A carefree, lawless time where people didn’t stop to ask questions like “why are all our children suffering horrible head injuries and how can we as a society prevent it?”.

2. They’re fucking expensive. Seriously, check it out. The cheap ones are fifty bucks. While I certainly wouldn’t want to get my skull caved in I can’t honestly say that I have over $60 worth of information stored in my brain.

3. …okay. They look stupid. I know it’s the lamest reason ever but they look stupid!

image courtesy of overcompensating.com

I’ve seriously considered getting a helmet recently because of a couple of events.  On my previous bike crash post, Jena’s friend Bob left a comment about how a helmet ended up saving his noggin after a bike crash one time.  Then I met a stranger at a bus stop downtown this weekend.   He was one of those guys that almost seems to spend time trying to look crazy.  He was wearing an army jacket even though he looked like he hasn’t served in years (if ever), a bushy beard and long, unkempt hair and giant, ’70s Hanson Brothers style glasses.

the eyewear choice of the mentally unstable (or hipsters)

I rode up to the bus stop, he looked at me and said “You should wear a helmet or you’ll end up brain damaged like me!”

Not looking to have a conversation with a complete stranger who introduced himself by telling me he has brain damage I just said “Yeah, I should.” hoping that would end it.  It didn’t.

“I got brain damaged getting hit riding my bike.  The police said it threw me 90 feet.”

Okay, crazy guy.  Now I’m curious.  “90 feet? What’d you hit, a fucking catapult?”

“No.  It was a Volkswagen.  I was in a coma for three days.  You can’t tell but they had to take out and replace part of my skull.”  You could totally tell.

He went on for another five minutes about how it’s lucky that a Volkswagen hit him because of it’s shape and the hospital in Duluth and he knew the nurse from high school and I get it!  This is the fate that awaits me!  I almost threw myself down to the ground, clutched his dirty pants and said “answer me this, spirit!  Are these things you’ve shown me, are they the shadows of things that will be, or that may be?  Men’s lives lead to certain ends but if those lives be changed will not the ends be changed?” but mostly I just hoped that we weren’t waiting for the same bus.

Thankfully we weren’t.  The next bus was his but before he got on he picked up his two paper bags full of miscellaneous garbage, looked at me and said “remember to get that bike helmet.”

I will, spirit!  I will!