Archive for the ‘friends’ Category

>More Shit People Send Me

Posted: May 13, 2011 in friends, karate

>If you’re a long time reader you know that I do karate with a guy named “Brian” who, sadly, was defeated by Jesus during our first-ever tournament but I avenged his death/humiliation by rising to the occasion and kicking Jesus’ ASS.

Because that’s what friends do.

Right before they make fun of their friend’s lackluster effort on a blog. Again.

The more you know.

Brian works in those big yellow scoop-type-truck things (Tonkas) when he’s not having his ass handed to him by lesser people like myself during sparring class.

How bad is your headache after that?

Please note that this was the second video my daughter took which, honestly, is a lot less funny than the first.

So I’m at work and my phone buzzes and I check it and it’s a picture text from Brian with NO SUBJECT and just this:



So I sent him back this:

To which he replies:

Brian doesn’t send me pictures any more.

Probably a good idea.

>At work the other day when this IM pops up from my friend, Janet:

I love ruining people’s lives so much.

Chat me up on IM.

I’ll show you how it’s done.

Moog out.

I’ve decided to turn my Facebook assholishnessicicity (trademark pending) into a regular series because, well, a post is a post.

If you’re a friend of mine on Facebook then you may or may not know that I have an amazing ability to have amazing abilities.

One of these amazing abilities is commenting inappropriately on serious stories.

A while ago I did my first post on some of my responses to the local Fox News Channel’s Facebook status updates.

It proved to be pretty popular so, here we go again.


So I guess I’ll keep on doing this shit until someone over at Fox 25 News in Boston (waves to Gene Lavanchy) hires me as an on-the-spot correspondent or starts paying me to write this stuff I guess I’ll just keep trying to write this stuff.

>So my kids got a ‘SCIENCE KIT’ for Christmas and when I say “Science Kit” I mean “not remotely a science kit AT ALL because – I’m sorry – if our country’s best and brightest minds are trying to figure out how to make sugar candy out of sugar and, you know, FOOD COLORING and unless that asteroid that is hurtling towards us can be stopped with rainbow-colored sweeteners or – even better – super absorbent crystals then we are already dead, people.

Already dead.

When I was a giant fat shit of a kid I would have RELISHED a “science kit” that allowed me to make junk food but instead what I got before there were apparently “laws” and “child safety concerns” and “concerned parents” was something like this:

Hell yes. The “Tri Lab Pak” science kit.

Got a small, inquisitive child?

Then this kit with small containers of random caustic chemicals AND a sharp metal hammer is just the thing they need!

Next to my house was a “barrel shed” for our trash which my dad built because he used to be a construction worker and building shit is what construction workers do when they’re not passed out from drinking twelve packs of Schlitz (read: ALWAYS).

So my buddy Ed and I who are apparently gluttons for punishment decided it would be a great idea to scoop up all these containers of chemicals from my Tri Lab Pak and go out to the barrel shed and then, you know, do what little kids do:

Make a bomb.

This seemed like an amazingly good idea at the time because, since we were about 8 years old, that made us experts at mixing random chemicals like ‘sulfur’ and ‘lithium’ and ‘mercury’ (ah, the 70’s!) together so this would be a no-brainer.

Key words there: NO. BRAINER.

The kit had a bunch of glass test tubes and, for some reason, some other kind of glass container with a wick sticking out of it.

We figured that bottle was a pretty good place to dump all the chemicals into and then light it using a book of matches that was just lying around my house next to a pack of cigarettes just above the liquor cabinet and holy shit way to be great parents, mom and dad. wtf.

To verify the historical accuracy of this post, I sent it to Ed to review to make sure I hadn’t missed anything, at which point he replied with this:

Ah, yes.

Because what dirty bomb of questionable molecular stability would be complete without a shitload of GUNPOWDER.

With all the chemicals in place, we closed the double shed doors behind us and I picked up a barrel lid to shield us from whatever was going to happen next because, hey, safety first.

Ed lit the match and held it to the wick as we both ducked behind the barrel cover…

..and waited.

Match goes out.

Ed lit the match again and held it to the wick as we ducked again..


Ed: “It’s not lighting.”

Me: “I wish this made sugar candy.”

Frustrated, we laid the barrel lid across one of the barrels, then Ed popped the top off the glass bottle and dumped some of the contents out and laid the bottle on it’s side, like Wile E. Coyote making a fuse out of gunpowder and right at that analogy you pretty much know this is going to end badly.

Without anything shielding us now, and the doors closed tight, Ed held the match to the dumped out chemical cocktail.


Ed: “Damn. It’s still not ligh..”

The next thing I remember is this gigantic BOOOOOOOOOOM and a flash of light and the doors to the shed blowing wide open and OH MY GOD SO. MUCH. SMOKE and by the time I regained semi-consciousness I was two blocks away running as fast as I could (not fast at all) with Ed in the lead because, you know, we just BLEW UP MY FUCKING SHED HOLY FUCKING SHIT WE MUST RUN UNTIL EVERYONE AROUND US SPEAKS CHINESE AND WE WILL BEG FOR ASYLUM.

I don’t remember much other than kind of hiding out in an alley somewhere waiting for the fire engines to fly by but they never did. DISAPPOINTING.

Eventually, I wandered back to my house and somehow the shed was not actually on fire but the doors were pretty fucked up and there wasn’t a single shard of glass or anything anywhere so I’m going to guess that they either completely vaporized or they’re embedded in my skull which, honestly, would explain a lot.


Maybe the “Tasty Science” shit isn’t that bad after all.


The following post contains graphic language and some suggested nudity but basically just written in tech-talk so it will probably all go right over your head unless you really know computer shit and/or are from Bangalore at which point you’ll have to go flog yourself or something (I have NO clue what those Baptists do) after you read it.


And another Instant Message flurry with my friend, Kristin, commences…

So then I got really horny and had to rub one out in the men’s room (third time’s the charm!) and started writing this post because I know I have to work but this blog isn’t going to write itself, boss…

..when I notice this:


Hot. Right?

But I have NO clue what it is but Kristin is one of those teabagging (not the good kind), sandwich-board wearing (not the good kind, either) political freakazoids so I HAVE to ask.

To be perfectly honest I DON’T have a thing for Ruth Bader Ginsburg and actually had to Google how to spell it and a bunch of pictures came up of her including some of her younger years:

Not bad.

Back in the day, I would have totally put my floppy in her access point.

Excuse me now…

I have to go flog myself.

Moog out.