Archive for the ‘casting couch’ Category

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Today I have a guest post (read: I’m SO LAZY) from Sister Merry Hellish over at “Inside Out and Backwards” which, honestly, sounds less like the title of a blog and more like something I’ll make you do naked once you are sufficiently inebriated.

Or sober.

Depends on how kinky you like it.

ONWARD!!

******************

Living with ADD is like having something shiny dangling in your brain that you can’t look away from. Not a disco ball or anything, although how awesome would that be?! A disco ball and a monkey in a white, Elvis jumpsuit spinnin’ something that goes “oonce oonce oonce oonce” in the DJ booth! No, that can’t be right because yesterday I woke up singing the theme from “I Dream of Jeanie” and that doesn’t go “oonce oonce oonce oonce” at all and…

Ahem.

Where was I? Oh right.

Attention Deficit Disorder.


Ages ago, before I was aware I had ADD (and medicated, woo hoo!) I was pulled over for my inspection sticker and plates being out of date.

Then, 8 years later, I was pulled over again for the same damn thing, only this time there was a warrant out for my arrest because I hadn’t stapled the first ticket to my forehead and “failed to appear in court.” (insert ‘air quotes’ here for best effect)

So, courtesy of ADD, my need to get this shame out into the open and Moooooog35 being a lazy ass, I bring you some lessons and observations my from one-night stay in the county lockup!

Hey! *snap, snap* Pay attention!

1) Mentioning you’re worried about your three-year-old dog who’s home alone to the disenchanted cop taking your fingerprints will prompt the completely unconcerned response “We’ll have someone go by the house and check on your DAUGHTER.”

Really? If you’re wondering why your request to transfer to Social Services was denied after you totally nailed the interview it’s because upon hearing a 3-year-old is roaming around unattended and probably shotgunning a jug of bleach you should be horrified, have someone immediately go get her and charge me with child endangerment, you incredible jack-wagon!


2) Violating a restraining order to stay away from your soon-to-be ex-husband will get you arrested.

Screaming “It’s MY house! I’m not trespassing if it’s MY house! He’s in there with that whore! Let me go! I’ve got to get that whore out of my house!” like a banshee will get you your own cell and dropped to the bottom of the processing list.

3) Constipated? Per the group of prostitutes who had been eating cheese sandwiches and corn for over a week the cure is a hamburger from McDonald’s. No joke. It was at least a 30 minute conversation. They all agreed.


4) After bending over and coughing while standing in a semi-circle with nine other naked women during the strip search, the rest of us (horrified and suppressing the urge to laugh) watched the exchange between one of the guards and a short, round Hispanic woman who was still bent over holding the cheeks of her ass apart. Every time the guard yelled “I don’t need to see that! I need to see your VA-GI-NA!” the woman, who clearly didn’t understand English, would spread her cheeks farther apart and cough until the yelling started again. They finally brought in an interpreter before she split herself in half.

5) When told that the ladies with “an extra belly” needed to hold it up and I went to oblige, the guard looked at me and said “Oh, not you honey.” I have never been more flattered in my entire life.


6) Nothing adds insult to injury like having to wear a scratchy, bright orange prison uniform with “X-Large” printed in HUGE black letters across the ass. So much for flattery.

7) Losing your appetite and giving all your food to the old hooker with 2 teeth and 6 months left on her sentence will earn you the top bunk, a lesson on how to fold your mattress so you kind of have a pillow and a shaky, wrinkled hand moving up your leg in the middle of the night.

8) The lovebirds having their morning shower together in one stall will drive home the fact that prison sex will forever be misrepresented by the porn industry until someone from the “People of Wal-Mart” site decides to make one.


True story. I think this whole post falls under the “If you can’t be a good example, be a horrible warning” category.

And for Moooooog35 it’s a lesson on being careful what you wish for.

As for me, I’m getting out of here. Everything’s sticky, there’s hamster poo stuck to the wall and for reasons I can’t explain, I feel sexually harrassed!

*oonce oonce oonce oonce*

************************

Thanks, Sister!!

Now go visit her over at “Inside Out and Backwards” and maybe bring tequila because that shit tends to hurt if you don’t do it properly.

If you’d like to guest post, shoot me an email at:

midgetmanofsteel@yahoo.com

Moog out.

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Because it’s summer and I’m really lazy and someone offered to do a guest post for me I’m giving you a guest post today because – honestly – I’m kind of exhausted from eating Doritos and not showering (yay for single life!).

Today’s guest post is from Louise Baker.

* Louise Baker writes about online colleges at Zen College Life. She recently ranked the best online schools in North America.

* she sent that to me so I just pasted it in here and I have no idea what “Zen College Life” is because most of my college life was spent in an alcoholic coma

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How to Annoy the Hell Out of Someone Using Only an iPhone

Ahh, the iPhone.

It does everything, from checking email to updating Facebook, taking pictures to keeping track of your tasks, and it even makes phone calls (unless you’re a technology journalist living in San Francisco).

The iPhone has a number of great features that are designed to be helpful, but there are also ways you can use it to annoy someone to distraction.

Let’s take a look at just what those ways are.

(Editor’s note: Call me ‘old school,’ but I believe in annoying people the Old Fashioned way: with lots of sexual harassment and the clever use of camouflage/dildos or camouflaged dildos)

Most of the methods which I describe will be using apps, but let’s talk about ways that don’t use apps first.

One way to annoy someone is simply to keep ranting about how great the iPhone is, especially to people who don’t have one.

People who don’t have iPhones fall into two categories:

1) People who really want one and are jealous

2) People who hate it.

Both of these categories will be really annoyed by your incessant yapping.

Secondly, if you have an iPhone 4, you can call someone and hold the iPhone in your hand without a bumper, and they won’t be able to hear you (it’s a feature!).

The Apps:

There are lots of great apps to aid you in your quest to annoy your frie – I mean, your enemies. These apps come in a variety of different types and have different purposes.

The classic prank app is the fart app. There are numerous versions of this general idea, all with essentially the same purpose and functionality.

Most other annoying applications are derivatives of the great original whoopee cushion, because the sound of excrement gases escaping has long been shown to be the most embarrassing – and therefore annoying – sound on the planet.

(Editor’s note: Correction – I’m pretty sure that the most annoying sound on the planet is the sound of Fran Drescher laughing. I am now going to invent the iDrescher app)

This next app appeared mostly because of the 2010 FIFA World Cup, and has since become less popular.

The vuvuzela.

Will we ever forget the drone of a hundred million bumblebees trying to escape from our TVs? The Vuvuzela app is still a great one for annoying your sportier fr… enemies. Yeah.

A vuvuzela is a plastic trumpet popular in South America, and the sound it makes isn’t all that bad unless you get thousands of the damn things in one place. Now with one simple app, you can recreate the World Cup experience whether people want you to or not!

(Editor’s note: I recreate the World Cup experience every night when I fall asleep)

The last variation of the annoying noise app contains a series of annoying noises.

(Editor’s note: They make a “Family Reunion App?!”)

Unlike the above two, of which there are numerous equally annoying variations, I’m going to mention a specific app. Annoying, by Craneballs Studios is a simple, graphically pleasing app which has a plethora of disgusting and disturbing sound effects. There are also a number of other apps which offer sound boards with a variety of sounds, though this is probably one of the few focused exclusively on annoying sound effects.

Whatever your reason for needing to annoy someone, the iPhone can certainly help you do it.

Aside from using it to hit someone with, your best bet is to try one of the many applications designed to produce annoying sounds.

Yes, it costs a lot of money and your soul will forever belong to the mighty Steve Jobs, but that’s a small price to pay for the pleasure of being a colossal dick.

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Thanks, Louise!

Like I need an app to be a colossal dick.

Check out Louise at the link above if you want to read more.

Want to Guest Post here? Then send me an email to:

midgetmanofsteel@yahoo.com


Before I start today, I just want to be serious for a second (mark your calendar) and go all-out and pimp myself out.

Hey..even I get tired of the beatings from Rodrigo after a while.

First off, I did a podcast with Kelly from Speaking from the Crib yesterday.

It’s awesome. Listen to it. I’m friggin’ hilarious.

Like that’s a surprise.

TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT, PEOPLE!!

Tonight, on April 2nd, I will be the ‘Special Guest Host’ for a fundraising bash for New Hampshire HorseTalk Therapeutic Services which is an organization that provides hippotherapy services.


So – you’ll be able to find ME – yes ME – on April 2nd at Milly’s Tavern in Manchester, NH hosting this awesome event.

Bands, auctions, masssages from the Whiskey Girls, Cabin Fever Whiskey, raffles..a ton of shit.

Come down.

Meet me.

Support the cause.

Have some fun.

ONWARD!!!

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I was asked to interview another VERY FUNNY blogger out there, Don Joe from “Workforced,the office comedy blog”.

I don’t normally do interviews but he promised me oral.

Here goes!! Enjoy!

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1) Do you have any special talents? For instance, I can juggle really, really poorly (up to two balls), imitate Kermit the Frog and can also make dolphin noises. Interestingly, I’ve made $300 doing all three simultaneously for this chick with a Muppet/mammal fetish, but that’s a different story and my defamation suit is still pending. How about you?

Well, my juggling skills outdo yours; I have juggled office comedy, neuroticism and pedantry for years. I remember arguing with my ex-wife over which of us was more pedantic. I won the argument, she got the kids. Double win for me!

Above all else I’m a first rate writer. I’m sorry, I don’t mean writer; I mean chronic masturbator. I often get the two mixed up. I was caught writing on a bus last year.

My imagination is arguably a talent, although I’ve been prescribed Ritalin for it.

2) Speaking of defamation lawsuits, what is your favorite way to dress? I have an aversion to anything around my ankles since the whole ‘dad/bondage’ episodes from my childhood so I can’t wear long sleeves or those short socks without screaming uncontrollably.

I’ve forgotten if I’m asking you questions or what at this point.

Well, my socks scream lawyer but my tie screams accountant. I like to mix styles a bit; I’m quite radical like that. I don’t want to come across either too “law” or too “accounting”. It’s a fine line. Next season I’m going to blend an air of insurance broker with hints of banker.

Its only question two and you have lost your train of thought. Snap out of it man! Why not have a sip of coffee from your “Midget Man of Steel” branded mug available online now.

3) If you were to describe your perfect day, why would you bother if there’s something good on television? Oh..THAT’S the question..what’s your favorite TV show? If you say you don’t watch much TV you are dead to me because, seriously, you’re probably the reason ‘Arrested Development’ got canceled and I HATE YOU.

Last year I watched a lot of House. It was my ex-wife’s house. However, since the restraining order I watch a lot more Bachelor: I spend hours crying in front of the mirror.


4) Did you play sports and, if so, which ones? A correct answer here does NOT include ‘soccer’ or ‘tennis’ or ‘golf’ as none of those are technically a sport unless you’re LAME or railing chicks like Tiger Woods.

I spend a lot of time scratching my balls. Does that count?

5) Tiger Woods: Bad decision maker, or true American Hero to all men everywhere? Discuss.

I really don’t understand the issue here. The man’s first name is “tiger” and his last name is the plural of “wood”. Has there ever been a name more apt for adultery?

It’s a shame that my real name is Loner Whackoff. I can’t imagine anything more horrible than having sex with scores of women; I find it awkward enough apologizing to one.

I have been thinking of changing my name to Randy Bumgardener, but I don’t want to be confused with the other Randy Bumgardener who is director of the President’s Guest House (http://www.washingtonlife.com/tag/randy-bumgardner/).

6) If you could have any woman in the world to have sex with, who would it be and could you put in a good word for me? Thanks in advance. If you’re married, ‘my wife’ does NOT COUNT here because you know that’s bullshit.

I cast my vote for Michelle Obama. Let’s face it Barack is tall, dark, handsome and the most powerful man in the free world. Still, there’s nothing even a tall, dark, handsome and powerful man can say after you’ve turned around and said “Yeah, well I doinked your wife.” Don Joe: 1, Mr. President: nil.

In the meantime I’ll put in a good word for you with my ex-wife.

(editor’s note: I am ignoring the fact here that the jury is out on whether or not Michelle Obama is actually a man or not)



7) Did you buy one of my mugs yet? http://www.cafepress.com/mentalpoo

No, they’re crap.

Not really an interview question but I’ve only made, like, 6 bucks so I need as much free advertising as I can get.

In which case yes and it’s superb. I also bought your thong priced $8.99. Who wouldn’t cover their bulge with a “Midget Man of Steel” logo? The joke writes itself. Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather have a bigger penis but at least the thong makes light of my midget man. I’m less convinced by your “Midget Man of Steel” kidney dialysis machine. At over $20,000 I think it takes the piss.

8) If you could eat one food only for the rest of your life, what would it be? Also, where is this food coming from? Are you a magician? (see: special talent question above)

Residents of California won’t be surprised to hear that my chosen food is “In-N-Out Burger.”

After I am uncloaked and my anonymity thrown into the wind I am likely to get fired, sued and ridiculed. When the forthcoming (and largely unwritten) Workforced book flops I am highly likely to spend the rest of my life flipping burgers, which will work out well if the job includes a lunch allowance. Who needs magic when you have a palpable lack of alternative job prospects?

9) Do you look like anyone famous? If the answer is ‘Sarah Jessica Parker’ please feel free to off yourself.

Seriously. The world doesn’t need any more of that crap.

Imagine Harry Potter aged 35 and you’re pretty close.

Phallus Enlargio!

Shame I don’t have the spells.

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There you have it, folks.

Go read “Workforced, the office comedy blog“, follow him, stalk him, I honestly don’t give a shit.

He’s a funny read and you’ll be glad you came.

That’s what she said.

Moog out.

I got me a special guest blogger today.

And by ‘special’ I mean ‘velvety.’

And by ‘velvety’ I’m not really sure what I mean.

Sometimes I confuse myself.


Today, the wonder that is Lilu from Live It, Love It has graced me with a guest spot.

Lilu is hilarious, and – based on their conversations – her boyfriend and I may be separated at birth.

I have a scar on the back of my head that I don’t know where it came from.

So it’s entirely possible.

If you don’t read Lilu’s shit (literally, in some cases), make sure you bookmark her.

You won’t regret it.

Here is Lilu’s post for me – an oldie but a goodie.

Thanks, Lilu!

Enjoy, everyone.


*******************************
Email from Lilu introducing the piece:

“FYI, it’s from a year ago, before I met B and I was living with two hellish girls. Time flies… when you want to sterilize your roommates just to make sure they never procreate.

Feel free to quote me on that.”

*******************************

Can We Just Drop All the Pee-Pipe Stuff Here?

I love my apartment. I love the location, I love my room, I love the view. The only downside to the three bedroom is that one of the bedrooms used to be a parlor, and the two bathrooms are inside the two original bedrooms. So, when Roommate 1 (we’ll call her Greeny McCruncherson, as she was from Oregon) wants to pee, she has to walk through my room. Normally, I could care less about this, as I am a relatively sound sleeper, and I get to try out all of her products in the bathroom.

Now, there is one situation where this can get tricky… and that is, of course, the with the appearance of the “overnight guest.” Greeny McCruncherson of course feels uncomfortable barging into my bedroom when I’m sharing my bed with someone, or maybe she just wants to avoid getting an eyeful of drunk, awkward white people mating. (Understood.) Anyhoosits, one particular evening this exact scenario occurred… and took an ohsointeresting turn.

It was a couple hours into the bedroom-portion of the evening when I received her angry text, “It’d be nice if I had access to my bathroom…” Seeing as we had already, um, ‘had relations,’ I quickly responded for her to come in, that the coast was clear (all hairy testicles were either packed away or under the covers). She entered quickly, occupied the bathroom for five or ten minutes, and stalked back out again. I felt sorry for making her uncomfortable, but I had no idea how truly bad it was…

Until the next night, when we were smoking cloves out the window of the living room, because we’re klassy like that (or too lazy to go downstairs, whatevski). Being an extremely talented bartender, I had made us some amazing margaritas, and consequently, we were feeling just lovely (smashed) as we were discussing (making fun of) Roommate 2 (it’s okay, she was racist).

I then realized that I had not yet filled in Greeny McCruncherson on my own adventures of the “overnight guest” evening, which involved him getting a bloody nose at a very, uh, inopportune moment. Let’s just say his muff-diving skills could have used a little less… fluid. Nevertheless, no sooner had I finished lamenting the sex that wasn’t (good) than she had cut me off, “Oh, you don’t even KNOW.”

Greeny McCruncherson: We had all that wine at dinner, and I really had to pee, but I figured you were sexing it up in there and I didn’t want to walk in. I had asked the Racist Roomie if I could use her bathroom for the night, and she said, ‘sure, of course!’ and then slammed her door shut. Seeing as she hates me, I didn’t really think it was worth barging in there, since she was probably naked (gross) and would bitch about it to you the next day.

Me: Right, so that’s when you texted me…

Greeny McCruncherson: Yeah, and I came in and went into the bathroom, but then I couldn’t pee! I had stage fright, just knowing that your “guest” was like 10 feet away and could hear me. I was sitting there forever, but it wasn’t happening, and being in there so long was getting embarrassing too. So finally I just gave up and walked out.

Me: Ha! That’s hilarious. I mean terrible! I had no idea… so what the hell did you do? Go in Racist Roomie’s room?

Greeny McCruncherson
: Nope.

Me: You… ohmygod. You didn’t. Holy shit, you peed in the kitchen sink.

Greeny McCruncherson: I had to! I didn’t have a choice!

Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA That’s awesome! How did you get up there??

Greeny McCruncherson: I just jumped up and sat down! I didn’t know what to do… I thought about going outside, but I’m not very good at popping a squat.

Me: I know, I always end up peeing on my feet.

Greeny McCruncherson: Me too! The sink was the only option.

Me: Eh, whatevs. It’s all drains anyways!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And of course, I was reminded of “The Wife” episode from Seinfeld, where George pees in the shower at the gym…

ELAINE: Since when is a drain a toilet!?

GEORGE: It’s all pipes! What’s the difference?!

ELAINE: Different pipes go to different places! You’re gonna mix ’em up!

GEORGE: I’ll call a plumber right now!

JERRY: Alright, can we just drop all the pee-pipe stuff here?


Indeed, Jerry. Indeed.

I got me a special guest blogger today.

And by ‘special’ I mean ‘velvety.’

And by ‘velvety’ I’m not really sure what I mean.

Sometimes I confuse myself.


Today, the wonder that is Lilu from Live It, Love It has graced me with a guest spot.

Lilu is hilarious, and – based on their conversations – her boyfriend and I may be separated at birth.

I have a scar on the back of my head that I don’t know where it came from.

So it’s entirely possible.

If you don’t read Lilu’s shit (literally, in some cases), make sure you bookmark her.

You won’t regret it.

Here is Lilu’s post for me – an oldie but a goodie.

Thanks, Lilu!

Enjoy, everyone.


*******************************
Email from Lilu introducing the piece:

“FYI, it’s from a year ago, before I met B and I was living with two hellish girls. Time flies… when you want to sterilize your roommates just to make sure they never procreate.

Feel free to quote me on that.”

*******************************

Can We Just Drop All the Pee-Pipe Stuff Here?

I love my apartment. I love the location, I love my room, I love the view. The only downside to the three bedroom is that one of the bedrooms used to be a parlor, and the two bathrooms are inside the two original bedrooms. So, when Roommate 1 (we’ll call her Greeny McCruncherson, as she was from Oregon) wants to pee, she has to walk through my room. Normally, I could care less about this, as I am a relatively sound sleeper, and I get to try out all of her products in the bathroom.

Now, there is one situation where this can get tricky… and that is, of course, the with the appearance of the “overnight guest.” Greeny McCruncherson of course feels uncomfortable barging into my bedroom when I’m sharing my bed with someone, or maybe she just wants to avoid getting an eyeful of drunk, awkward white people mating. (Understood.) Anyhoosits, one particular evening this exact scenario occurred… and took an ohsointeresting turn.

It was a couple hours into the bedroom-portion of the evening when I received her angry text, “It’d be nice if I had access to my bathroom…” Seeing as we had already, um, ‘had relations,’ I quickly responded for her to come in, that the coast was clear (all hairy testicles were either packed away or under the covers). She entered quickly, occupied the bathroom for five or ten minutes, and stalked back out again. I felt sorry for making her uncomfortable, but I had no idea how truly bad it was…

Until the next night, when we were smoking cloves out the window of the living room, because we’re klassy like that (or too lazy to go downstairs, whatevski). Being an extremely talented bartender, I had made us some amazing margaritas, and consequently, we were feeling just lovely (smashed) as we were discussing (making fun of) Roommate 2 (it’s okay, she was racist).

I then realized that I had not yet filled in Greeny McCruncherson on my own adventures of the “overnight guest” evening, which involved him getting a bloody nose at a very, uh, inopportune moment. Let’s just say his muff-diving skills could have used a little less… fluid. Nevertheless, no sooner had I finished lamenting the sex that wasn’t (good) than she had cut me off, “Oh, you don’t even KNOW.”

Greeny McCruncherson: We had all that wine at dinner, and I really had to pee, but I figured you were sexing it up in there and I didn’t want to walk in. I had asked the Racist Roomie if I could use her bathroom for the night, and she said, ‘sure, of course!’ and then slammed her door shut. Seeing as she hates me, I didn’t really think it was worth barging in there, since she was probably naked (gross) and would bitch about it to you the next day.

Me: Right, so that’s when you texted me…

Greeny McCruncherson: Yeah, and I came in and went into the bathroom, but then I couldn’t pee! I had stage fright, just knowing that your “guest” was like 10 feet away and could hear me. I was sitting there forever, but it wasn’t happening, and being in there so long was getting embarrassing too. So finally I just gave up and walked out.

Me: Ha! That’s hilarious. I mean terrible! I had no idea… so what the hell did you do? Go in Racist Roomie’s room?

Greeny McCruncherson
: Nope.

Me: You… ohmygod. You didn’t. Holy shit, you peed in the kitchen sink.

Greeny McCruncherson: I had to! I didn’t have a choice!

Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA That’s awesome! How did you get up there??

Greeny McCruncherson: I just jumped up and sat down! I didn’t know what to do… I thought about going outside, but I’m not very good at popping a squat.

Me: I know, I always end up peeing on my feet.

Greeny McCruncherson: Me too! The sink was the only option.

Me: Eh, whatevs. It’s all drains anyways!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And of course, I was reminded of “The Wife” episode from Seinfeld, where George pees in the shower at the gym…

ELAINE: Since when is a drain a toilet!?

GEORGE: It’s all pipes! What’s the difference?!

ELAINE: Different pipes go to different places! You’re gonna mix ’em up!

GEORGE: I’ll call a plumber right now!

JERRY: Alright, can we just drop all the pee-pipe stuff here?


Indeed, Jerry. Indeed.