Take me for instance. I have a fourth grade education and work as a doorstop, yet I am allowed to vote. Pretty fricken' cool. The other day I was wandering around, totally baked, when I saw a bunch of people walking into a school. I am looking at the 'Vote here' sign over the door when it dawns on me...IT'S VOTING DAY! I love voting because afterward you get a sucker. I head in the door and after the longest wait of my life I get my ballot. I hope next time I don't have to wait the ten minutes because it is a bit of a buzzkill.
I get to the voting booth with my ballot and pick up the pen. I immediately fill in the wrong circle. I ask for another ballot. I immediately fill in the wrong circle again. I get another ballot. This time I am doing just fine until I see the name Richard Headstrom. Heeheeeheheheheeeheee. Dick Head-strum. Heheeheeheee. I can't stop giggling. I look over at the woman next to me and show her the name. She doesn't find it amusing. Maybe she doesn't get it, so I explain it to her. I get a tap on the shoulder from one of the election people. He tells me to mind my own business. I mind my own business I say as I grab my crotch. "Dick Head-strum. "
He then asks me to leave. I tell him to go to hell, I was just trying to share a voting joke with the lovely lady next to me. Election dude grabs my shirt. I grab onto the voting booth and start to scream "Leave me alone you Dick Head-strum lover!"
He has my feet off the ground pulling me and I am laughing so hard i loose my grip. My upper half hits the floor hard and my ears start to ring really loud. I mean so loud I can't hear what anyone is saying. Poll worker guy and two others are dragging me by my feet to the door.
I still can't stop laughing and screaming "WHERE IS MY SUCKER?"
I get pushed out the door and told not to come back. I guess I will be adding this to the list of things not to do while voting. Dang. I need some Doritos.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Monday, November 5, 2012
Fancy pants dinner
I was wrangled into going to a fancy pants dinner. It was for a foundation of some sort benefiting kids with tri-polar fedoras or adult onset angst syndrome or something. These are the events I hate. Not because I don't like the causes, but because I don't like the people. Sitting in any room full of people, I can judge the amount of fun I will have by the number of men with earrings. It is a simple tell all of whether there will be drunken amusement or some dorks dancing to the Axel F Beverly Hills Cop song and bragging to the office on Monday that they really 'got down'.
This room of nearly 900 had all of one dude with earrings besides me. He was also the only little person there which made it a little more surreal. I felt I had made a friend.
The dinner started with the silent auction with beer and wine being served. I am usually a fan of beer, but not light beers in semi cold bottles. I was glad I brought my flask of the Jameson. When I say flask, you should know I mean nearly a full bottle in a convenient spiggotted bag built into my jacket. I bought a beer, dumped it out in a plant and refilled with the good stuff.
The silent went as planned. Silent.
We shuffled into the great room for our meal. It was good, overdone, over prepared, overly fancy, overly mediocre meal. Also, risotto. Which I think is the most overrated of all foods. Everyone tells me when it is made well, it is fantastic. How many times can I get the crappy plate of risotto? Apparently twenty plus times in a row. Fuck risotto. I think people only say that because they don't want to be the person who doesn't think it's good. Emperor's clothes type of thing. After the meal there was another auction for some big buck items. Dinner for ten here, weekend in Vegas there, designer accouterments blah, blah blah.
Since dinner was done and I am starting my second beer bottle of whiskey, it was time to get mischievous. I grabbed my bidding number and placed the first bid on every item. I waited til the last item, which I really wanted. Dinner for four at a Jacques Imo in New Orleans. Air fair and two nights in the French Quarter included. I have friends that have been there and said it was amazing. I raised my bidding number and the auctioneer sighed out loud. I held it up higher and waved it around til he called my number. The next bid was two thousand. The auctioneer seemed a bit surprised when I raised it again to raise it to twenty five hundred. Three, I bid to thirty five. Four, I stand up and I raise to forty five. Five, I takes a step forward and I go to fifty five. nothing...nothing...the auctioneer points to the other last bidder. I do the *cough*cheapskate*cough* thing. I love doing that. He stares at me angrily and goes to six. I raise my card right away and push it to sixty five hundred. I glare over and lift my fist up to my face. Stick my pinky straight up. Smile. As I slowly curl my pinky back down into the fist, follow it along with my eyes and turn my smile to a frown. I do this to BMW drivers too. Nice car, sorry about the penis.
The man stands up with the best scowl. It is the scowl of a business man who just lost a takeover bid. The scowl of a republican when low income housing is being planned in his neighborhood. The scowl of a religious person finding out his kid is an atheist or gay. that scowl. He raises his card, up to seven. I step toward him flipping my card up and back down quick. he holds his up for eight. I rise mine quickly and lower it slowly. He raises his card and holds it up. I flip mine up a few more times as I walk toward him.
He is fuming. I can see the veins on his neck bulging. His wife is tugging on his sleeve to sit down.
I smile and raise the bid again. And again. And again. I am standing at his table. He is at twenty thousand dollars. I smile and pick up an empty water glass. I pour a tall shot of whiskey into it. Hand it to him and say "Enjoy the meal. I always do." there is thunderous applause around us. The color is quickly draining from his face as he realizes he just spent twenty thousand dollars on a dinner for four. He sits and drinks the shot.
I turn and walk out of the room. What I do wish is that I had a few bucks to donate to this cause. They seem like such nice people.
This room of nearly 900 had all of one dude with earrings besides me. He was also the only little person there which made it a little more surreal. I felt I had made a friend.
The dinner started with the silent auction with beer and wine being served. I am usually a fan of beer, but not light beers in semi cold bottles. I was glad I brought my flask of the Jameson. When I say flask, you should know I mean nearly a full bottle in a convenient spiggotted bag built into my jacket. I bought a beer, dumped it out in a plant and refilled with the good stuff.
The silent went as planned. Silent.
We shuffled into the great room for our meal. It was good, overdone, over prepared, overly fancy, overly mediocre meal. Also, risotto. Which I think is the most overrated of all foods. Everyone tells me when it is made well, it is fantastic. How many times can I get the crappy plate of risotto? Apparently twenty plus times in a row. Fuck risotto. I think people only say that because they don't want to be the person who doesn't think it's good. Emperor's clothes type of thing. After the meal there was another auction for some big buck items. Dinner for ten here, weekend in Vegas there, designer accouterments blah, blah blah.
Since dinner was done and I am starting my second beer bottle of whiskey, it was time to get mischievous. I grabbed my bidding number and placed the first bid on every item. I waited til the last item, which I really wanted. Dinner for four at a Jacques Imo in New Orleans. Air fair and two nights in the French Quarter included. I have friends that have been there and said it was amazing. I raised my bidding number and the auctioneer sighed out loud. I held it up higher and waved it around til he called my number. The next bid was two thousand. The auctioneer seemed a bit surprised when I raised it again to raise it to twenty five hundred. Three, I bid to thirty five. Four, I stand up and I raise to forty five. Five, I takes a step forward and I go to fifty five. nothing...nothing...the auctioneer points to the other last bidder. I do the *cough*cheapskate*cough* thing. I love doing that. He stares at me angrily and goes to six. I raise my card right away and push it to sixty five hundred. I glare over and lift my fist up to my face. Stick my pinky straight up. Smile. As I slowly curl my pinky back down into the fist, follow it along with my eyes and turn my smile to a frown. I do this to BMW drivers too. Nice car, sorry about the penis.
The man stands up with the best scowl. It is the scowl of a business man who just lost a takeover bid. The scowl of a republican when low income housing is being planned in his neighborhood. The scowl of a religious person finding out his kid is an atheist or gay. that scowl. He raises his card, up to seven. I step toward him flipping my card up and back down quick. he holds his up for eight. I rise mine quickly and lower it slowly. He raises his card and holds it up. I flip mine up a few more times as I walk toward him.
He is fuming. I can see the veins on his neck bulging. His wife is tugging on his sleeve to sit down.
I smile and raise the bid again. And again. And again. I am standing at his table. He is at twenty thousand dollars. I smile and pick up an empty water glass. I pour a tall shot of whiskey into it. Hand it to him and say "Enjoy the meal. I always do." there is thunderous applause around us. The color is quickly draining from his face as he realizes he just spent twenty thousand dollars on a dinner for four. He sits and drinks the shot.
I turn and walk out of the room. What I do wish is that I had a few bucks to donate to this cause. They seem like such nice people.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
fighting sickness
So, I've been fighting off some sort of viral/bacterial thing for like three weeks. I feel I am on the verge of a full blown sickness that will completely incapacitate me. It started with the sniffles and a sore throat. That went away and was replaced by abdominal swelling and a headache. That went away. Then came the mild fever and red spots, gone, replaced by a thick southern accent and the shakes. Then fine again. Next came the crappie flops and red eyes. Fine again. Then the bachelors in philosophy and mumbles. Gone. A bout of the gout and a bit of the nit. A spell of the swell and a slight of the blight. A single malt Dimple Pinch, a urban ram rod, a pickle dreamcicle, a prevailing westerly, a nor-easter, an orthadox easter and an el nino. All gone as quick as they came.
I kind of wish it would all be done with. Now I feel a speck of the rigor mortis coming on. I hope this will be enough to keep me home for a few days. I could use the rest.
I kind of wish it would all be done with. Now I feel a speck of the rigor mortis coming on. I hope this will be enough to keep me home for a few days. I could use the rest.
Monday, October 8, 2012
scry it, you'll like it.
Have you ever tried scrying? You know, looking into a piece of mirror or a crystal ball? I was reading about some asshat religious dude that was having visions about the end times, presumably to make some extra cash, and I thought I would give it a try.
Let me say here that I have never tried scrying and have been doubtful of it's use to tell the future or tell anything about anything. I was resigned to give it an honest try. I found a apiece of mirror and a couple candles. I found a bit of transparent cloth and draped it over the mirror so I could make out my form but not my reflection. I lit some incense and the candles. To help the process I dropped six hits of acid took two ecstasy and liked some Central American frogs. I then put on Tubular Bells, turned off the lights and got to staring.
It didn't take long for me to get to the visions.
The first thing I saw was a vision of a church. It was dark abandoned and foreboding. In front of it was a man walking slowly toward me. He was telling me I should buy a George Foreman Grill. I can only assume this meant the end of the world was nigh.
The next vision I had contained a large tentacled statue forty or 50 feet high. it was either something from Cthulu or the Flying Spaghetti Monster and standing in front of it was H. P. Lovecraft or Bob Barker, I'm not sure which. That may sound weird, but in real life I can't tell them apart. H. P. Barkercraft had a quail on his head and was wearing lederhosen. I took this to mean the apocalypse was at hand.
My next vision was of a My Little Pony, one from the new cartoon, not the old ones, the new ones are way cooler and incorporate a rather sophisticated humor at times compared to the old ones that were way more Hannah-Barbera with shitty scripts. You know what I mean, right? Oh, so anyway, the pony was racing around looking for some restraints and talking about getting back to the castle dungeon before her captive escaped the ropes because they just weren't strong enough. She was worried that whatever it was would destroy the world with its evil. I could hear it screaming from the depths of the castle from where I stood outside the castle gates. Bloodcurdling howls of pure rage and spite. The ground rumbled and my chest pounded from the creature pounding the ground under it. The creature within was breaking free. Other Ponies inside were waging a horrific battle to keep it contained. By the sounds within I could tell it was a losing battle. The rumble was getting louder and louder. The creature was free and lumbering toward the gates. The gates and the wall around were bulging with the strain of the creature pushing out, pushing for freedom of itself and for the oppression of everything free in the world.
I snapped out of this vision knowing what I had to do. I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before. I will start my OWN My Little Pony bondage fan fic site. I will call it mylittleponybondagefanfictionpage.com Visit often.
This scrying thing is awesome!
Let me say here that I have never tried scrying and have been doubtful of it's use to tell the future or tell anything about anything. I was resigned to give it an honest try. I found a apiece of mirror and a couple candles. I found a bit of transparent cloth and draped it over the mirror so I could make out my form but not my reflection. I lit some incense and the candles. To help the process I dropped six hits of acid took two ecstasy and liked some Central American frogs. I then put on Tubular Bells, turned off the lights and got to staring.
It didn't take long for me to get to the visions.
The first thing I saw was a vision of a church. It was dark abandoned and foreboding. In front of it was a man walking slowly toward me. He was telling me I should buy a George Foreman Grill. I can only assume this meant the end of the world was nigh.
The next vision I had contained a large tentacled statue forty or 50 feet high. it was either something from Cthulu or the Flying Spaghetti Monster and standing in front of it was H. P. Lovecraft or Bob Barker, I'm not sure which. That may sound weird, but in real life I can't tell them apart. H. P. Barkercraft had a quail on his head and was wearing lederhosen. I took this to mean the apocalypse was at hand.
My next vision was of a My Little Pony, one from the new cartoon, not the old ones, the new ones are way cooler and incorporate a rather sophisticated humor at times compared to the old ones that were way more Hannah-Barbera with shitty scripts. You know what I mean, right? Oh, so anyway, the pony was racing around looking for some restraints and talking about getting back to the castle dungeon before her captive escaped the ropes because they just weren't strong enough. She was worried that whatever it was would destroy the world with its evil. I could hear it screaming from the depths of the castle from where I stood outside the castle gates. Bloodcurdling howls of pure rage and spite. The ground rumbled and my chest pounded from the creature pounding the ground under it. The creature within was breaking free. Other Ponies inside were waging a horrific battle to keep it contained. By the sounds within I could tell it was a losing battle. The rumble was getting louder and louder. The creature was free and lumbering toward the gates. The gates and the wall around were bulging with the strain of the creature pushing out, pushing for freedom of itself and for the oppression of everything free in the world.
I snapped out of this vision knowing what I had to do. I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before. I will start my OWN My Little Pony bondage fan fic site. I will call it mylittleponybondagefanfictionpage.com Visit often.
This scrying thing is awesome!
Saint days
I have realized how religions have taken over the world in the large ways, like making everything a sin, or killing non believers, but i have realized there are much more subtle ways. There is the putting symbols everywhere, sneaking it on money, and electing politicians that are "morally" objecting to normal things. But here is one that no one thinks about. Saint days. Every day has a saint attached to it. some days have many saints attached to them. Do you want a National Athiest Day, funny how it will fall on St. Assington of Dribbleford,s day. His miracle was saving some boys from liking girls. Do you want a National Kristoffer (Kris) Kristofferson Day? Awww, it falls on Saint Rubbins of Crotcherties' Day. Self explanatory joke miracle. Want a National Day For Slipping On Ice Awareness? You should have been here in 1361 when Saint Wankering of Lubington saved the town from losing the town clock from rusting gears.
The point being, you don't get a day that doesn't already have a saint named after it. Fucking saint days. the only real was to bury them is continue to pile on more and more dedicated days til the saints are so deep that they become mulch.
Also, December 25'th is now Enmelishment Day.
The point being, you don't get a day that doesn't already have a saint named after it. Fucking saint days. the only real was to bury them is continue to pile on more and more dedicated days til the saints are so deep that they become mulch.
Also, December 25'th is now Enmelishment Day.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
It's so hard...
It's so hard to not correct the stupid. To not slap people who want to pray for me. To not run idiots off the road. To not just fucking do it myself. To not rat one more cookie. To not just finish the bottle. To not flip over the scrabble board. To not roll my eyes. To not scream. To not be snarky on everyone's Facebook post. To not laugh in face of adversity.
It's so hard to be kind. To say thank you. To pay for my own idiocy. To know I've done an injustice. To be the better person.
It's so hard...to not make an innuendo. That is really hard. Like, super hard. Oh my god it's hard.
Tee hee hee.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Reality in the making of decor...
I went to CONvergence this year. I decorated two rooms this year as opposed to the one room last year. I grossly underestimated the time commitment. I thought there would be a lot of doubling up of duties, I was wrong. Both rooms served their purposes. One was more of a party room and the other more often intellectual meeting area. I really wanted to blog all about the experience but really had no time.
CONvergence seemed a bit more low key on the party rooms. Not nearly as extravagant. I suddenly feel as though we may be setting the pace for next year. Although I doubt anyone will too my Cock And Balls theme from this years soccer playing rooster league. I'm just kidding. It was a penis and testicle themed room.
The other room was based on the movie version of Battlefield Earth. So it was really a 'masage John Travolta' room. Again i'm kidding. You walk in, lost two hours of your life and wish like hell you could get it back.
Really they were both skeptically themed rooms. One room allowed you to self vaccinate in case of alcohol deficiency, the other room you could talk to bloggers and eat delicious melon. Next year, a Greek theme for them. Add meeting intellectuals. Add discussing philosophies. Add a fountain. Add some wine. Add a vomitorium. Subtract the man/boy love. Done and done.
Damn I'm good.
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