who dat? contest.

(yo stee. i know
who dat?)

last game:

florida man joseph edward nichols, who spends his days shooting semen out of a water gun onto little girls

i chose him just cuz, man, is he creepy-looking

first correct answer:

through whom i found the photo in the first place

left column shoot you with squirt gun, pretty ladies.


focus problems

Today I have nothing for you but random thoughts and observations. Deal...

The cat woke me up by puking next to my bed this morning so I decided to get up and work out. During, I was watching Matt Lauer reporting from Victoria Falls in Africa. Man, is that dude a little pussy-man. He was getting misted on by the falls, and he just kept mentioning how wet it was, and is it always this wet, and will someone hand me a towel. Even his secret fuck-ho, Katie Couric, looked disgusted.

There's a guy here who works as a receptionist (he has the limpest handshake in the world - I'm still creeped out by the memory of introducing myself) who answers the phone (in a very loud voice, I might add): Judy Reniskis office. But he doesn't do the possessive form of the word and it drives me so crazy that every time he answers the phone, I half-yell, "Judy Reniskis' office." And people laugh, except for receptionist-boy cuz, well, he's on the phone.

I am 100% hetero, but I will admit to a few man-crushes. Currently, they include Clooney, Jeff Bridges, Paul Auster, Matthew Perry, and Dave Grohl. It's not that I want to kiss them or find out the Color And The Shape, I'd just really like to hang out with them and mostly be them. Fine, I admit it, sometimes I'd like to be someone else. Sue me.

I read this joke recently: Fighting over religion is like fighting over who has the better imaginary friend.

I find it pretty funny that MTV sucks the collective dicks of people like 'N Sync and Britney Spears, but also then plays videos by people like Eninem, and Kid Rock, who talk shit about them. Seriously, watching TRL makes me very very confused and sad.

I love the fact that Matchbox 20 officially changed their name to Matchbox Twenty. It's like Ricky Schroeder changing to Rick or, for that matter, Corky Nemec changing to Corin. Folks: Suck, by any name, is still Suck.

I'm reading a book by Vietnam-obsessed author Tim O'Brien right now called Tomcat In Love. It's not about Vietnam, but rather a different war: Love. It's a fucking awesome book so far.

These are the newest arrivals in my music collection that are helping me get through the day: Helmet - Strap it On. Prince - Purple Rain. Dr. Dre - 2001. Radiohead - The Bends. The Police - Regatta De Blanc. The Magnolia Soundtrack. Cypress Hill - Skull & Bones. Nothing like going from Aimee Mann to Prince to Cypress Hill to jump-start your day, and confuse the fuck outta your co-workers.

A reader sent me a good Canadian joke:
Q: How do you get twenty Canadians out of a pool?
A: Yell 'Everybody out of the pool'.

Guys are fucking disgusting. If I had to be gay, I don't know what I'd do with myself. Men: here are a few bathroom tips. Please listen.

1) Don't talk. Just shut up and do your thing.
2) Don't moan. Please. Please. Please.
3) Wash. Your. Hands. Damn, you penis-touching non-washing motherfuckers.
4) If you have to use the stall to pee, lift up the seat. Seriously. Use your foot if you have to, but don't just pee all over the fucking thing.
5) For god sakes flush.

ONE YEAR AGO TODAY: I was thinking about how sometimes when you wash lettuce, the lettuce seems kinda slimy, so you wash it some more, but then it breaks apart with the pressure of the water. And drying the lettuce is always such an ordeal because you have to use a lot of paper towels and though in the grand scheme of things, who cares how much trouble washing lettuce is for you personally since you are just one person, but to yourself it really matters because you do have to be central in your own life, you know, and so thus the inherent troubles involved in washing lettuce really have to matter to you or you're just sort of this non-entity, you know, who just goes through life thinking nothing, feeling nothing, exploring nothing about this universe in which we live... And then by that time i was pretty tired so i opened a can of corn instead.

The Larry King Happy Song Corner

Why try? I'm that guy. Holden Caulfield from "Catcher In The Rye". Put away ‘cause he wasn't all there. Like a jigsaw puzzle you might compare me to him not a liver but wurst. Been much better off as a stillbirth. Big let down unparalleled like the last episode of "Seinfeld", Or Jack Lemmon in "Glengarry Glen Ross". Pepsi Challenge, took it, lost. Just fizzed out with my wires crossed. Buttons pushed but never went off. Like Martha I will self-destruct. The name's Dunnstock it's not Dumptruck. Just cursed as fuck with no such luck. My future plans include not much. Never gonna be never gonna be never gonna never gonna be nothin' more than me. Never gonna be never gonna be never gonna never gonna be nothin' more than me. Never gonna be never gonna be never gonna never gonna be nothin' more than me. Always gonna be always gonna be always gonna always gonna be Most Likely to Suck... speaking of which. There's really nothing more relaxing than doing a good puzzle, is there? I like to sit in my townhouse as Julie brings me cocktails and Triscuit Pizzas, which are my current favorite eats, and work on a nice puzzle with a Yankees game on mute and some Duke Ellington on the Hi-Fi. The other day I finished a 1000-piecer, and boy was it worth it, as I was rewarded with a doggone hysterical portraiture of a couple of rascally kitties playing with string. Those crazy kitties!
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