Archive for the ‘Random’ category

Haiku Wednesday

November 10, 2010

In honor of some things I’ve been obsessed with/pondering recently, I decided to express my feelings for them in Haiku form.

House, M.D.

A brilliant doctor
He makes fun of everyone
Cuddy is a fox

Fantastic Contraption 2

For those who don’t know
It’s an engineering game
Check out the free trial

( … Seriously, it’s insanely fun and addictive.)

Green Tea

Hot and delicious
I take mine with two Splenda
Drink it everyday


Yesterday’s weather
Was the last nice day of fall
Now here comes the cold

Cam Newton

Big-mouthed quarterback
Won’t play ball without a bribe
Now in hot water

Minnesota Vikings

Still not very good
I bet they go eight and eight
Favre is a disease

The NFL’s New Contact Rules

Let them play the game
Way too many penalties
It’s like two-hand-touch


Does this entry count
As my blog post for the week?
Judge rules: yes it does

One love,




June 17, 2010

Hate to be all Debbie Downer and hit and run like this, but I don’t have much time to write.  I’m only dropping in to let you know that starting Sunday, I’ll be on vacation for a week and I seriously doubt I’ll be writing anything while I’m gone.  I’ve spent all this week getting myself and Wifey ready, and running errands and such.  I’ve got a few things in the works for posts when I get back though.

Hope everyone has a great week, and I’ll be back before you know it.

One love,


P.S.   I’ve killed three more squirrels since my last post.  I’m like the Rambo of the squirrel world.  Taking those furry cake-eaters out with extreme prejudice.

Today’s Sign Of The Apocalypse

March 31, 2010

Yesterday while at work (so I guess that should make the title “Yesterday’s Sign Of The Apocalypse,” but too late, I already wrote it) one of my co-workers and I had this exchange:

Him: “Hey, did you know there was an earthquake in Chile?”
Me: “Yeah, that was over a month ago.”
Him: “Yeah, I never heard about it.”
Me: (Struggling to stifle all of the mean, sarcastic thoughts running through my head) “How is that even possible?”

Let’s take a break there to acknowledge the fact that this person has clearly been living under a rock lately.  I half expected him to ask me if I had heard about an earthquake in Haiti, or a tsunami in the Indian Ocean, or if I was aware that the Twin Towers were under terrorist attack, or if I knew the Cold War was over.  Okay, back to the events that occurred yesterday at work. It bears noting that while this conversation was going on, my co-worker was sitting in front of a computer.  Immediately after he asked me about the earthquake in Chile, he clicked to Google, said “I’m gonna check this out,” and started typing …

C – H- I- L- I

And he hit enter.  He seemed surprised that the only things that came up were listings for Chili’s restaurants, and recipes for chili con carne.  Nothing of an earthquake.

And we wonder why the rest of the world mocks us and looks down its collective nose at us.  We wonder why our culture is considered one of the dumbest of all the developed nations.  All I could say was, “Seriously, more, less Facebook.”

One love,


Super Secret Santa

January 15, 2010

Last Saturday, a handful of my closest friends and I gathered for our annual tradition of a Super Secret Santa gift exchange.   It’s fun, festive, and the alliteration in the title whips us all into a frenzy!  Okay, maybe not.  More like … it’s fun, festive, and there’s a 100% chance everyone is going to get drunk before I get there and open basically every present in the house.

In any case, I had zero idea who had drawn my name or what they might get me, but I was pleasantly surprised when I opened my gift to find ….

Sooooo, apparently Sara, my Secret Santa, decided to forgo all ideas of subtlety and go for the win.  Well played, Sara.  Well played.  Now it looks like I’ve got some reading to do.  I think I’ll brush up on the section about maintaining an audience first. (I think I just “boom, roasted” myself).

Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go read about what to do when you’ve only written about six times over the past three months and basically all of your readers have forgotten about you and moved on to reading endless amounts of Facebook status updates instead. Thanks again for the great gift, Sara.  I can only hope it didn’t come too late.

One love,


Who Says?

November 14, 2009

Tuesday marks the release of John Mayer’s latest album, Battle Studies. Before you start calling me a latent homosexual sissy-pants for liking, nay, LOVING John Mayer, perhaps I can sway you not to with two words … please don’t.  He’s come a long way from how you probably remember him on MTV back in 2001, and his music is nothing like it used to be.  Much more blues-inspired, and a lot less douchey-frat-boyish.

Anyway, the first single off of that album is entitled “Who Says” and its words beckon us to let people be who they are.  In it, he asks:

Who says I can’t be free
From all of the things that I used to be
Rewrite my history
Who says I can’t be free?

I’ve listened to the song a couple, thirteen, fourteen times, and it got me thinking.  Who says I can’t do what I want?  I mean, if John Mayer is gonna put it out there, I’m gonna run with it.  So, even though mine aren’t going to be all rhyming and fancy and stuff, I’ve compiled a list of things that I’d like to be pardoned from the record when you decide whether or not I’m a loser.

-Who says I can’t eat Cocoa Puffs for all three meals in a day on a Sunday when I don’t feel like cooking?  I mean, I love those damn things, and if I ever found myself on a deserted island with nothing but a bowl, a spoon, and an endless supply of milk and Cocoa Puffs, then I think I’d be just fine.  Matter of fact, I’d quite prefer it that way.

-Who says I can’t spend a Saturday night watching HGTV with my fiance’s parents?  If Jess is out of town, and I don’t feel like doing anything, then bring on the sweatpants, get me a comfy chair, and let’s plow through some shows about houses and shit.

-Who says I can’t buy a log of Nestle chocolate chip cookie dough with absolutely no aspirations of EVER portioning it out and actually baking cookies?  So what if I want to put it in a bowl and eat it raw with a spoon.  That’s my cross to bear.  Lay off me, I’m starving.

-Who says I can’t secretly listen to Katy Perry songs at work when no one else is around?  If a guy wants to YouTube “Hot N Cold” like sixteen straight times, then let him be.  And while we’re at it, I’m probably gonna watch the “Single Ladies” video by Beyonce a handful of times too.

-Who says I can’t sleep with a stuffed penguin?  Yeah, I’m 26, but we’re a good match, and I’m not gonna let what anyone thinks ruin a potentially good night’s sleep.  I’ve had him for almost five years now, and he is easily worth his weight in gold.

–Who says I can’t buy a box of Uncrustables peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and plow through two or three of them on the car ride home?  Those things are delicious, and are so addicting, I’m beginning to wonder if there are trace amounts of heroine in them.  Clayton, you know what I’m talking about on this one, back me up.

UncrustablesYou’re telling me you couldn’t eat half a dozen of those right now?

–Who says I can’t talk to myself even though I don’t live alone anymore?  Sure, I run the risk of getting caught much more easily than before, but old habits just don’t die that easy.  So let’s just be clear about this one; I’m going to continue to narrate my Nintendo Wii Tennis matches when I think no one else is home, and I will call the other team a couple of fart-smelling hookers in the hopes that no one else hears me.  If they do, well, they just learned a new insult. And speaking of Nintendo Wii …

–Who says I can’t forgo blogging for a week while I polish my Wii skills?  I’m now an ace on the tennis court, I officially take all challengers.  I’m pretty fair in all of the other Wii Sports games as well.  Regardless, I had a very uneventful week, and it was nice to just veg out before work for a few days.  If I had posted something, I would have had to force it, and it probably would have been bad.  Worse than the stuff I actually post.

One love,


Don’t Give Peace A Chance

October 14, 2009

Recently, I was asked by one of my newer readers to discuss the overuse of the backward peace sign, and how it needs to be pronounced dead.  Despite the fact that I more than dabbled with such a peace sign in my early 20s (and hell, maybe into my mid 20s too), I decided to take on such a request.  However, I’m modifying it just slightly.  I am going to break down why all peace signs should be left for dead.  Of course, there are exceptions to every rule, but since none of us are Paul McCartney, we don’t have to worry about those exceptions.

Now I could sit here and talk until I’m blue in the face, but as the saying goes, a picture is worth a thousand words.  Granted, I’m going to throw in a few of my own words, but I think the pictures will mostly speak for themselves.  So submitted for your approval, here are a handful of reasons for you to consider what you should do with your hands before you take a picture, pass someone in traffic, or greet someone from afar:


Okay, as you can clearly see, I’m pulling out all the stops, cutting right to the chase, going straight to the bimbos.  The double peace sign can say many things;  “Look, I’m wearing bracelets AND my wristband from the hospital visit when the had to pump all the Sour Apple Pucker out of my stomach last night” seems to be fitting here.

Lindsay Lohan

Really?  Do I even have to say anything here?  I can see why she chose to throw her peace sign with her right hand, as she is showing off her wristband from rehab (which, by the looks of her eyes, she obviously didn’t complete).  Had she used her left hand, then we would have gotten the pleasure of an even more prevalent shot of her ring that appears to be in the shape of an “F”.  Apparently she forgot her matching “M” and “L” rings that night.  I blame it on the alcohol.


Although Chris Brown is showing us two different peace signs here, both of them can be filed under the “I like to beat up my superstar singer girlfriend and kick her out of the car on the side of the road” type of peace signs.  The bow tie in the picture on the right slightly classes up that peace sign, but since it is being delivered at a 45-degree angle, the points were immediately deducted.


Whoops, I don’t know how this pic slipped in here.  I was planning on using this for my “What’s Your IQ?” post.  Or was it for my “How Many Terms Should I NOT Have Been Elected To Presidential Office” post?  No, now I remember.  It was for my “I Read And Speak At A ______ Grade Level” post.


If Miley Cyrus isn’t a poster child for everything people age 18 and older shouldn’t do, then I don’t know who is.  Also on that list: go out in public without touching your hair, and carrying a purse that is nearly double your weight.


And here we have the “I’m going to cheat on my boyfriend and alienate all of our mutual friends in doing as such, therefore leading to the inevitability that I won’t talk to any of them anymore” peace sign.  No, this is not my ex, but the ex of a very close friend.  There’s a 60% chance she’ll see this, and a 100% chance I won’t care.

Before we get too far off topic, I should wrap things up.  As I’ve shown you here today, throwing up peace signs is a sure fire way to deplete your friends list faster than you can say “whoop whoop.”  In summation, the peace sign, ladies and gentlemen, is dead.  Let it go in peace, no pun intended.  For if you cling to it, then you are no better than this guy …


Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

One love,


This Is Not ‘Nam, This Is Bowling, There Are Rules

August 6, 2009

I consider myself a fairly mild-mannered person.  It takes a lot to get me truly angry, and even when I am upset, it doesn’t last long.  I’m generally pretty relaxed and I like to think of myself as a very easy-going guy.  However, there are things, usually little things, that sometimes tend to make me want to smash someone’s face into a car windshield.

Sometimes, things just don’t make sense to me.  In an effort to keep from gnawing off my own arms at the elbows, I have to get some of this stuff off my chest.  And since I have an open forum to vent about stuff, I’d be a fool not to use it. Off we go.

Dear Makers and Distributors of Single-Ply Toilet Paper,

Who in the hell are you kidding?  This stuff is about as useless as a third nipple.  I don’t understand the concept behind it, really.  It’s a disgrace to the human body if you ask me.  Not only am I going to be disgruntled when I come across it, I am going to use twice as much out of spite, even if I don’t need it.  (I’m looking at you Crowne Plaza in Bloomington.  Yes, I purposely flushed half a roll of toilet paper every time I went number one while I was there.  Take that.  Maybe next time you’ll think twice before charging that much for a room and spending mere pennies on such an important item).  In summation, I think we can all agree that single-ply toilet paper is nothing but an inconvenience.  If it’s an attempt to save money, then it is a failed attempt, as people are probably just going to use twice as much to combat the absurdity of one thin layer of transparent paper between your hand and germ city.

Dear Asurion,

For those who don’t know you, you are the “global leader in technology protection services,” and you happen to be the company who covers me in case my cell phone gets damaged.  So when I dropped it in St. Paul, I knew I’d be getting in touch with you guys in the near future. When I found out I could file my claim completely online, I was pumped.  Not only would I not have to spend an inordinate amount of time on the phone, which I hate, but I can take care of everything in my birthday suit, which just makes things that much better.  So when the time came, I logged on and spent around ten minutes filling out my claim.  It was fast, easy, and painless … until I clicked ‘SUBMIT.’  Then, up popped a screen that said that in order to further verify my identity, I would have to call the number provided.  Okay, fair enough I suppose.  I mean, I wanted to avoid the phone ordeal all together, but it is what it is.  So, I called the number and was anything but surprised when I had to maneuver my way through the automated messages just to figure out who the hell I needed to talk to.  After being on hold for five solid minutes, I was told that finalizing my claim was simple, and all I would have to do is log back onto the site and download a form to fill out.  Wait, so, let’s recap.  I filed a claim online, was told to call to verify my identity, called, and then was then directed back to the website at which I began this Bermuda triangle of common sense.  So I went back to the EXACT SAME WEBSITE I filed my claim on, downloaded a form that required me to write down all the EXACT SAME INFORMATION I already entered online, and faxed it to them, along with a photocopy of my driver’s license. Well, I’ve used the phone and the internet already, so why not toss in a third medium of communication with the fax machine?  Hey, maybe after that I can mail you a letter or Western Union you my deductable payment.  Absurd.  Only three words come to mind: lock it up.

Dear TLC,

We need to talk.  When you decided to run a show called “Jon and Kate Plus 8” about a couple and their eight kids, you probably didn’t realize the ramifications it would have down the road.  For a while, it was easy enough for me to ignore it because, well, I don’t watch TLC.  But now, I can’t open a magazine or visit without seeing news about their recent divorce or separation or whatever the hell it is, and it’s making me sick.  Firstly, what makes these people so special that they deserve their own show to begin with?  They have eight children, big whoop.  Lots of families have eight kids and/or have had sextuplets.  That doesn’t make these people special, especially since their sextuplets weren’t conceived naturally.  Maybe I’m missing something, but between these two and the Octomom, it seems like America has an affinity for people with more kids than they can handle.  Am I the sensible one here or am I missing something? Would it have broken peoples’ hearts if Jon and Kate had made an announcement saying they were going to quit the show to work on their marriage for their childrens’s sakes?  It seems to me they made their priorities clear.  They wanted to enjoy their fifteen minutes of fame.  Hope they’re happy.  Lord knows I’ll be happy in a three months when no one remembers who these idiots are.

Huh, is this really all that’s been bothering me lately?  Doesn’t seem like a lot, but then again, it’s summer, and only a true grouch would be able to be overly negative during summer.  Even if it hasn’t been higher than 75 degrees in what seems like two weeks, I’m going to refrain from complaining.  I’ll stick to complaining about the things that truly matter.  (Please note the sarcasm on that one).

One love,