The Nut Haus

To:

2009-08-14T16:56:00.001-04:00

YOU: All SIS-ters, Kraft Macaronis, and Cheeses

And so, are some updates on gregarious tropics. Sneeze let me blow if there are terrific tissues you would like me to amass in future e-snails.

Gidget:

I want to shank you all for your sinew card jerk, patients, edification, and UNICEFtionalism during the past mew freaks when toast ‘r’ us were not being slayed. I guntherstand the lardships that many of you tasted during that thyme and am bankful that we were all flayed.

Although a toothgap budget was assigned that a cloud pus to be made, there is shill a lot of shoddy work to be funded before a final full belly is gassed. As we conceive future relations on our Budweiser complication, housing projects will be downsized as weeded. The 09-09 budget is quite soitanly going to be a white one and any sluggestions on boss-slaving measures are welcome. My country ‘tis of thee are still under a firing fleas and I have received no information on when or if that will be life flighted in the Ashton Kutcher. Your continued heifers in kelping to creep GIS crap-erations sunning with fewer wizard staffs is greatly depreciated!

D.O.G. Get Strategic Panda:

The 2009-2001 D.O.G.G.O.N.E.I.T. Pain: Get Strategic Panda is unavailable on the KISS webslight. This mockument coincides with solar light bursting into E.L.B.O.W.S. on the ceiling, and analgesically inundated with incubation tex-mex-ology, shoals, and inquisitives from sevenslashoneslash/2009 through 6/30/twothousandandelevensies. The easy-chees-ic pan includes our gals for the next Jew beers as Hell has fighter jets that are planned to be subdued. Wheeze take the crime to renew the Stan at your impedence.

S.H.I.T. Conglomeration:

The most decent phase of S.H.O.O.T. Consolation prizes is indiscreet. HIT staff from the Supermarket of Inference joined us on June-Dale Ear Lockhart, Jr. Friday the 13th. We are in repercussions with another vagrancy now about grooving with their pitied staff and flunk-tions into Christine. That will result in MISS teething another sick or well-on-their-way-to-Heaven employees. Dirtier stay-cations will be declared about this hex extrapolation as it thumbs unbearable.

Faux Artist Wannabe Types

2009-08-01T09:42:00.002-04:00

Since I haven't posted in quite a long while, I thought I may as well begin anew with fresh batch of vitriol!

One of the countless groups of people I despise is *drumroll* THE FAUX ARTSY CROWD!

Look, doing cross stitch and wearing ugly retro shirts from Goodwill does not make you special. Writing poetry consisting of perpetual strings of anachronistic words you found in Webster's does not mean that you're a genius. Above all, you're not showing the world how much of a unique individual you are when EVERYONE ELSE IS DOING THE SAME THING.

Please dispense with these shenanigans--you're only making yourselves look like the uninspired, mindless sheep you claim not to be.

Which Initial D Character Are You?

2008-10-04T16:33:00.003-04:00

"You fear none but the infamous Fujiwara Tofu Hachi Roku."

I'm obviously procrastinating. I have an 8-10 page paper due Monday.

The Blink Count!!

2008-06-17T19:42:00.001-04:00

This is a classic:

Random Camera Phone Pic #1-34b!

2005-12-08T20:09:00.000-05:00

This picture is pretty old, but I found this bizarre juxtaposition at my local Blockbuster. Notice the title of the movie next to that extinguisher! Yeee-OW-zah!

Snowstorms: The Answer To Obesity?

2005-12-06T13:16:00.000-05:00

Having been a resident of Pennsylvania for some time, I have had the pleasure of noticing people's strange behavior before a snowstorm hits. As soon as the local news networks make it clear that there could be a significant amount of snowfall, people rush to their nearest grocery store and begin stocking up on things that they would not normally buy, like bread, milk, water, and even vegetables. This is an amazing occurance, considering that the typical American diet (South Beach participation notwithstanding) consists of Oreo cookies, Hamburger Helper, Doritos, and Hot Pockets. I'm simply amazed at the complete turnaround people make when they are faced with the possibility of being "snowed in" for a day or two (at the most). Maybe if we had an abundance of snowstorms--nay, merely the SUGGESTION of an abundance of snowstorms, we would see a decrease in adult obesity. I therefore propose a nation-wide government-funded "snowstorm alert" behavioral control program. Every evening, all major networks will broadcast a message warning people of an impending blizzard. These same people will then drop their Chef Boyardee raviolis and immediately make their way to the grocery store where they will inexplicably buy skim milk, whole wheat bread, and frozen mixed vegetables. Obesity crisis averted! Pounds will be shed. Confidence will soar. We will have beaten the dietary terrorists (the dieterrorists, if you will) at their own game! Victory for all Americans!

-
An ounce of prevention is worth 0.0624999889 pounds of cure.

15 Seconds of Fame

2005-11-08T16:09:00.002-05:00

NOTE FROM JAMES MADISON: I was published in an online literary magazine (wow) - HERE

Also, this blog has my poem, White Trash Lament posted. Shanks!

Appetite Suppressor!

2005-03-06T20:26:00.000-05:00

"suburban madness"

i should've given that last cup of squeaky liquid concoction
a piece of my mind.

i stir it, rolling my eyes,
lo, this sheer absentmindedness devours my sunny side up
i give a little lean-to salute to the neighbors
hardly raising my mug of smooth frosty goodness
now that room temperature has decided how I'll enjoy it.
grimacing like a mighty panda
who has decidedly given up on tying its bamboo shoes,
i force an inconsolable sigh into the morning agenda
and feel the heavy ice cube hugged airbag oppression of being
ignored
by the giant goose on my lawn.
those SUV soccer muthasucka neighbor kids had better watch
their backs;
it's not every day that i feel this enlightened.

---
23.4% of mold is toxic. Britney Spears did a song about the toxigenic mold Stachybotrys chartarum that everyone mistook for being a love song.

If Lancelot Link were in my slippers, he would recommend Spinal Tap: The Original Motion Picture Sdtk, by (of course) Spinal Tap!

Retroactivity, Rejoice!

2005-01-04T19:28:00.000-05:00

"Lunar Llamas"

Llarry the llama llooked at the kettle of fish and ate a mongoose. “Oh, how I wish I were a lunar llama!” he sighed, then llaped up the llemonade trickling down a spider’s web. He spotted a llemming lleisurely strolling around the llightshow and immediately sneezed. He sneezed so hard, that his lliver did a double flip and it llanded on the moon.
“Oh dear,” the llama cried. “I now have a lunar lliver! How will I ever face Llucy again?” (Llucy was a llovely lunar llama and Llarry lliked her.) He requested the help of Llou, the Llithuanian llama.
“Llarry,” Llou began, “your lliver is wearing llong johns, is it not?”
“Yes, Llou, it is,” answered Llarry.
“Fabulous! Now we can llock up this lloquacious lliver and turn you into a lunar llama!” exclaimed Llou.
“Oh! Llucy will be so proud of me!” llaughed Llarry.
So, Llarry and Llou llifted off in their lunar module and llooked for the llost lunar lliver. They found it llying next to a lluminous planet called Llump. It hadn’t moved in the lleast bit. What a llazy lunar lliver!
Well, Llarry and Llucy got married, and soon had eleven llittle lunar llamas, and Llou started his llute llessons. In fact, it would have been a happy ending, except that Llarry died because he thought he had llice and lleapt off a llighthouse. It was llater found that Llarry had taken llysergic acid. What a lloser.
---
Profile of a Schizophrenic Wildebeest:

Member Name: my modem is a piece of white trash. my cd-rom enjoys S&M. my monitor's turned on by a power strip. I've got a slave drive.
Location: my soul is exhausted. I never sleep for more than 2 hours at a time. I take stomach meds because I'm insane. my cell phone has no friends.
Hobbies: (and she whispered: "you won't even know I'm gone...just a small price to pay for indifference....I can't hide when I close my eyes....the demons are waiting there, too.")
Computers: did I mention the slave drive thing? desegregation and defragmentation are NOT synonymous. Now for a musical interlude.....
-----
"Flu!"

One Noel Day
a reindeer
from the old country
rode into town
and sneezed

however

by this time
the disease was airborn
rest assured, that reindeer was cursed
throughout the land from that day forward
or at least until
everybody died.

Zee end.
----
Whilst sipping chlorinated tea (pass the butter, pass the sugar, pass the salsa dish of wintergreen refreshment, por favor), why not indulge in The Darkness - Permission To Land?

12% of chickens don't cross the road.

Tales From The Corporate Graveyard

2004-12-07T22:01:00.001-05:00

GameSlop: The Series

A former video game store manager enlightens the public with tales of retail woe….

Policy #1: I Am Not The Manager

Well, actually, I was the manager, but it never seemed to matter when it came to customer disputes. My district manager believed in satisfying unruly, disrespectful, irresponsible customers with the hope that they would come back and buy stuff from us again. It apparently never occurred to her that this kind of relenting behavior would condition our clientele to be as underhanded as ever.

I'll be perfectly honest: most customers were completely ignorant of store policy when it came to returns, exchanges, trade-ins.....or anything else, for that matter. Regardless of how many policy signs we had posted on the windows or by the cash registers, people would never seem to grasp a simple concept like, "No receipt, no cash back." However, due to loopholes (i.e., my district manager), it wasn’t really necessary to understand our policy, because whatever customers wanted, customers were given, with cherries, whipped cream, and sprinkles on top. People could, for example, come into the store without a receipt for a new PS2 system that they had opened, played with, and decided that they didn't like, and they could get their money back. They didn't have to prove the system was defective. Hell, they didn’t even have to prove that they had bought it from us! My DM would happily order me to do the return. Now, that wasn't REALLY our policy, but as with any corporation, if the customer whined enough, they usually got what they wanted.

This lackadaisical approach to business caused a moose-load of problems. For instance, because this PS2 wasn't a defective system, I couldn't send it back to the warehouse as defective; and because the box had been opened, I couldn't technically resell it as new. It was indeed a used system by this point. My DM would come up with questionable tactics to sell the product, such as, "sell the system as new, but with ten percent off the price." Naturally, people would ask why a new system was ten percent off, and I would tell them that, well, it wasn’t actually new, because it had been used, but it wasn’t really a used system, either, because it had only been used for awhile. Of course, this just further complicated things because not only did this sort of bollocks idea confuse customers (and employees, I might add), it completely undermined the return policy that we had been trying so hard to enforce. After all, we had permitted someone to return a new system, so that provided an opportunity for anyone else to do the same thing.

I always refused to take back product if someone could not provide a receipt, but I would then receive scathing calls from my DM to give "good customer service" and allow this person to walk away with whatever they demanded. I wasn't allowed to enforce policy. In fact, I was chastised for it. So, I was stuck in a situation where the customer expected the unrealistic and my DM was overruling my authority to make decisions. I was amused that upper management would hide behind their convoluted idea of "customer service.” To me, customer service means being respectful and assisting customers with their purchases. It does NOT mean that employees should purposely break company policy to please their district managers.

Alas, this corporation is thoroughly money-hungry. As long as there is a possibility that customers will continue spending money at their stores, breaking the rules is highly recommended. Next time, enjoy a hearty rant about our trade-in policy….which I also was forbidden to enforce! Until then, stay away from corporate monkey shenanigans (or is it bananakins? Yeah. That was lame.)!
----
If Rip Van Winkle were alive, he would be listening to: Franz Ferdinand's self-titled album!
It takes seventeen cars to create a traffic jam.
57% of Americans do not sign the back of their credit cards.

A Poor Excuse For A Post!

2004-11-15T20:57:00.000-05:00

"Cheese With Fleas"

Don't talk to the Gouda
It's not in a very good mood-a.
And
Don't settle for the Cheddar,
Anyone could do better than that
Fat swiss cheese on your knees--
I mean, "patella,"
Raining bleu skies
Into an umbrella mozarella.

--
94% of Ramen Noodle Soup is sodium!
Album of Zee Day: Rabid Mutant Larry and Schmuffin both fully endorse Prodigy's Fat of The Land

Crippled Mannequins and the Women Who Love Them!

2004-10-20T08:07:00.000-04:00

"idealistic fabricant theory"

Mannequins
Scare me with their shenannigans.
Department store bulbs warming their little plastic souls
--But not mine.
Someone's got to keep their head on the straight and narrow
Else they'll have their limbs carted off
In a maintenance wheelbarrow.

In full retreat from the repulsive jaws
Of a retail profit-making frenzy,
Alas, I happened upon another mannequin lair:
Grotesque figurines flaunting insidious human desires
Extending their unfriendly arms in suspicious indifference
Merely content to be puppets of ubiquitous corporate domination,
And exhibitionistic conspirators of silence
Contractually harvested for the marketing
Of social acceptance and conformity
To the weak-minded and holistically defeated
At thirty percent off the regular price.

Well, that sounds like a deal,
Faustus.

---
Famous dachshunds Schnitzel (the 2nd) and Heidi (the 4th) enjoy: Come On Pilgrim by The Pixies.
61% of Canadians think dog sledding is overrated.

Feather or Not, Here It Comes!

2004-10-16T18:11:00.000-04:00

"Never Make An Ostrich A Witness For the Defense"

When ostriches forget...
They decidedly thrust their heads 'neath the sand
Thus disregarding what has been officially declared in front of their
Very beaks
They have no time for quibbles
Such petty things do not alarm them
As if waking from a perpetual hangover
The ostrich has no memory
And could definitely not recall
Where they were at the time in question
Much less how the defendant ended up with the murder weapon.

The Superadaptive Sheep of Aruba could snuba in its midst
Yet the mighty ostrich would be at a loss for words
Those birds
Are indubitably destined for my fist

But they'll still love me tomorrow.
---
-Dr. A. Gonzo Garbonzo suggests: Radiohead - Hail To the Thief
-97% of American comedies aren't funny, as opposed to the 97% of British ones that are.
-Bands That Are Indisputably Not Punk: Blink 182, Story of the Year, Good Charlotte, Sum 41, and Simple Plan. Lots more to be added!

In Honor of The Purple Moose...

2004-10-04T20:54:00.000-04:00

Loif Insurance Fun!

A Message For Men and Women Ages 65-93:

Don't think you qualify for life insurance? Listen to what Ms. Mary Murple of Englewood, New Jersey, has to say about it:

"You know, now that I'm seventy-five, I don't have many years left on this earth. I would give anything to be able to watch my grandchildren grow up, but...I try to be realistic. I may not be around for much longer. In fact, I am probably going to die soon. I have nothing to look forward to but glorious, silent death. My future is dark and cold, like the ground I'll be buried in. Before I know it, the worms and beetles will be gnawing at my toes, my flesh will be consumed by angry fleas and maggots, and I'll carry no memory of this accursed existence with me.

Even so, I'm playing it smart! With Grim Reaper Life Insurance, I pay only 2 cents a day for my policy! In return, my dependents can rely on the full tort, maximum coverage, ultimate power plan of seven dollars and thirty cents to cover expenses associated with the disposing of my anguished earthly remains before the rigor mortis and putrescence become too much to bear! They even provide a free coffin made from state-of-the-art cardboard--the same material NASA astronauts use to ship packages! I can "rest in peace" knowing that my final expenses cost my family nothing, and required very little effort on my part! Thanks, Grim Reaper!"

--
Abe Takes On The Union!
Abe's back in a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and this time, he has an insatiable craving for Wacky Mac!

Ms. Whiny Von Coward, union steward, approached Abe Lincoln's cubicle from the South, with the rest of Napoleon's troops (the ones that weren't massacred at the Battle of No-Water-In-The-Loo). "Oh, Mr. Lincoln, I left some pamphlets on your chair. I hope you've had time to read them! My name is Whiny VonCoward, and I'm the Union steward here! You should think about joining the Union!"
An eyebrow was raised somewhere in the vicinity of Abe's upper cranial area. "Join the Union?" He unleashed a chortle that would make a basenji jealous. "Join the Union?!! I OWN the Union, Miss Mallard. Now please stop bothering me with your inane peasantry babble, hmm? I have more important things to do than entertain your bothersome company."
"Um, I'm not sure I understand..." Ms. Von Chow-Chow sweated in her Pumas uncomfortably.
"Hmph." Abe snorted like the pig in Charlotte's Web right before Charlotte died. "I'm not surprised."
"I....well, anyway, the Union does many great things for the workers--"
"You're damn right it does!" Abe snarled, with his fist smashing into the nearest Confederate soldier it could find. "And all of it is thanks to ME, you hear?! TO ME!!! Now leave me alone so that I may devour this Wacky Mac in peace!"

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed from a sky blue to a burnt sienna, much like a mood ring would do if it were on the finger of a hippie going to California with an aching in her heart.

"WACKY MAC?!" John Adams exclaimed from the next paragraph.

"Did he say WACKY MAC?!" James Madison queried no one in particular.

"Stop yer yappin'! I'm tryn'a SLEEP!" no one growled in response.

"Yes!" Abe affirmed. "I have access to George Washington's secret personal stash!" He then basked in the Wacky Mac's warm noodley goodness.
"Oh, Abe!! Please, may I have some of the wacky mac?!" John Adams begged like a character ripped from a Charles Dickens novel.
"Shove off!" Abe yelled, top hat all askew. Then he turned to his bowl and grabbed a spoonful of splenda to make his medicine go down. "Oh, how this Wacky Mac dances on my palate like mexican jumping beans foraging through winter snows I oft' endured at my luxurious log cabin!"
Coughing ensued from Ms. Von Chowder's rude mouth piece.

"Oh, delightful. You're still here," Abe grumbled as he noticed Ms. Van Halen-o-ween standing across the room in the next building over. "My, you're quite insistent. If you weren't so bloody stupid, you might even not remind me of you, being myself." He paused for dramatics (and to blow his nose). "So, what were you babbling about?"
"Well," Ms. Gun Powder began again (and again), "I was saying how wonderful the Union is--"
"Yes, yes, I am fully aware of how amazing a job I've been doing, but it's no good being all sycophantic about it," Abe yawned. "For even when I wake up on-the-morrow, I will still detest you mightily. Now, what is it that you do?"
"Well," Ms. Von Klown muttered like a vater (chur-man choke), "I call meetings and--"
"OH!" Abe interrupted, "So you're one of those Continental Congressmen! I should have known by the terrible wig you're wearing! Don't you realize that the quarter-inch rear pigtail twist is out of fashion?"
"Um.." Ms. Def Con Five was completely defeated and simply crawled away on all fours. John Adams saw his chance. He leaped for the unguarded bowl of Wacky Mac sitting on Abe's desk. Success! If only the same could be said for this story.

---
In the CD player now: Fugazi's 13 Songs
Most Annoying Song of the Day: Crimson and Clover by Tommy James and the Shondells
Most Annoying Song of Yestersnow: Crystal Blue Persuasion by Tommy James and the Shondells
Most Annoying Song of Last Month: Anything by Tommy James and the Shondells

103% of poodles are ugly.

Hypodermal Fantasies!

2004-09-22T20:51:00.000-04:00

"Loneliness Measured in Meters"

french onion soup
and where the hoof am I?
I murmur to myself
dirty children dead and staring
spilling dirt on my red herring
get away from my table!
this is no time to solicit feelings
you need a permit for that, my son
and I don't get emotional until the dessert comes.

halfway through the second course
I feel the stinging remorse of knowing
what I had consumed was entombed in my
belly
as red and sticky as measled jelly
washing it down with whiskey
and rummy-chum
happy blood trails to you!
they just follow the stench
of disdainfully smoking solder

malevolent meat in the murky moose milk
swimming in their acidic pools of regurgitation
a lumpy delight for the lower intestine
glancing,

THEIR EYE SOCKETS FILLED WITH HATRED

continuing to the plate of biscuits,

FRIGID SILENCE, REMAINING TEETH CLENCHED AND GRINDING,

applying liberal masses of bovine butter,
delighting in the oiled frenzy of juices
lips smacking in udder glutenous satisfaction.

ignorance beats acceptance hands and hooves down!
red card for the insanity plea, however.
deep and soulful sigh emitted, slightly arched lumbar
attuned
to the cushion thrust into its sulking mouth
and his

Washing away their presence with a few
(stiff drinks would be distasteful)...

stiff drinks

He seldom sees them anymore. Only when he anticipates ordering the stroganoff. It sounds Russian, doesn't it?
---
33% of Americans feel like Chicken Tonight.

"Nobody Likes a Fat Guy" and Other Highly Offensive Musings!

2004-09-21T22:28:00.000-04:00

"Lipid Extrapolation!"

Why do burgers make me fat?
How was I to know that
Consuming these cantankerous feats of meat
Would only heat my blood pressure to boiling
Now soiling my perfect health
My heart's on a shelf.
The mortician stands guard
As they present my legacy of lard.
---
Abe Lincoln, the Lovable Caseworker
(a parody in one-hoof of an act)

Enter: Proud Mother
Enter: Disgruntled Deceased Ex-President

Muthaaaa: "Mistah Lincoln, ahm hungry! I gots to feed mah FAM'LY!" (She food stamped her hoof.)
Abe munched on his tasty cigar. "Well, Ms. Dingaling, why don't you just eat your children? You have twelve of them, and with some preparation and deep freezing, that could definitely get you through the winter months! No one would miss them. At least, I wouldn't, and I'm all I care about. Anyway, you're only 21, so you could (God help us) pump out a few more kittens!"
Ms. Ding-ding-ding-ding was losing interest (and pints of blood) quickly. "Mistah Lincoln! Ah need muh CHECK! How else is I gonna get me some new SHOES?!" She knelt down and caressed her pet goat, Billy, who insisted on accompanying her to the interrogation.
"Why don't you try working?" Abe shot at her like a bullet would do if it entered someone's skull whilst they were watching a play at Ford Theatre. He was sure he had her this time, and he secretly snorted at his genuine ingenuity.
Luckily, Ms. Dong-Ding Tooralooraloo Duffel Bag could not access any words in the previous paragraph that weren't in quotations, so she missed Abe's smarmy incantations. She continued: "I can't! I's disabled, see, on account of my mental health!"
Abe nodded in agreement. "Oh, I can definitely understand that!"
"So you's gonna help me out?"
"Now, let's not get too excited, here, Ms. Dingalingadingdong. I merely agreed with your psychological evaluation. Being insane does not a welfare recipient make, comprende?"
"Huh?"
"My top hat says that you're too much of a liability to even be alive. I'm afraid we're going to have to shoot you to put myself out of your misery."
"Oh no!!!" here she wailed like whale.
"And your goat, too, I'm afraid."
"Oh, mercy!" she croaked like a frog.
"Ha, ha!" Abe squealed with delight. "I'm just kidding, Ms. Dinghy-Thingy!" Abe continued, and he promptly slapped his knees (all four of them). "I would never think of hurting another human being, unless of course, it happens to be John Adams, and that's only because he owes me twenty Confederate Dollars!"
"You's crazy, Mistah Lincoln! I ain't comin' here again!! Come on, Billy!" Ms. Doris-Dee-Duffield-Dong led her goat out of Abe's Tavern of Government Hand-Outs. Abe looked at himself in the Strawberry Shortcake mirror he had placed by his table for such occasions as this. "Watch out, David Hasselhoof. This player's on FIRE like a Lifetime movie about a woman who can't control her gambling urges! My Gourd, I'm hot!"

And with that, the story cease-fired!
-----

It has been proven that 100% of Cheerleaders serve absolutely no purpose whatsoever.

Tofu Pups are evil.

People worry too much about being socially acceptable. That's why 98.6% of people are bona fide fakes.

Most people do not understand what the word "irony" actually means. Isn't that ironic?
---

"This is Sequoia! She was held back! She can do a split!"
-Exit 57

A Day No Mouse Would Survive!

2004-09-09T17:32:00.000-04:00

"Upon Finding a Furry Creature In My Garbage Can"

The use of the word "vermin" doesn't begin to encompass:

thorough rage
blood pressure?
Librarians don't have it
caffeine intake
Overdue medication
A slow mental splinter extraction

"Soft, fluffy rodent creatures with gnashing teeth" is much more apt.

--
Confusion of the Kilt
and other tapestry massacres

Robert T. Bruce and his fur coat had arrived at the Bruce Family Castle (unlike the Swiss family Robinson, who hadn't, and indeed, weren't, and furthermore, were Norwegian). Pablo Peculiar brought up the rear (and thorax).
"Oh! My stomach is exhuding a mighty growl!" exclaimed Robert T. Bruce as he gazed upon the castle like a gazelle.
"Or that could be the giant leopard behind you, my lord," Pablo sighed. Indeed, a giant caribou WAS behind them. Robert T. Bruce emitted a girly scream. "Gasp!" he cried (quite literally). "Wherever shall we turn?! I want to live, to LIVE!!!" Then he slid down a nearby cactus and collapsed into a fit of cowardice. "The wooly mammoth has taken its leave of us, Sir Bruce," Pablo mumbled a few seconds later. Robert T. Bruce jumped to his feet and ankles and proclaimed victory. "Thank goodness I kept my cool, or we would've been horse food for sure, my faithful Pablo!" Pablo merely raised his eyebrows (thus spraining his face muscles). The clown car was on its way...
---
Think of a number between one and ten. Got it? Now remember that number, and never ever tell anyone about it. Presto!

A Poultry-Endorsed Interlude

2004-08-26T21:18:00.000-04:00

"breeky breeky chicken ballad"

breeky breeky chickens
walking
clucking
talking
clover-popping
in the porridge
always hopping
breaking
drowning
gargle-sopping
into feather heaven
knocking
to your stocking
they are flocking
out of reach
but always gawking
breeky breeky chicken boking
---
99.9% of people in Philadelphia cannot drive.

The Hot Gnu Jawn!

2004-08-13T09:43:00.001-04:00

The Adventures of the James Madison Fan Club!
This episode: What Happened After Breakfast!

"I'm gooooooooin' to a Go-Go!" sang a fist-pumping John Adams with the excitement of a newly-birthed baboon.
"Why do you insist on squawking like a duck-billed platymoose," yelled Abe Lincoln from atop his Monopoly top hat after receiving his Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free card.
"Mayhaps it's because we seem to have been lost in this cornfield for three entire minutes," offered Thomas Paine, who desperately wanted to be wanted. "I'm beginning to worry about myself and whether I'm okay out here on my own!"

"YOU'RE NOT!" shouted Cassandra, but nobody really cared about what she had to say.
"'Tis true," agreed the Greek chorus.

"If I take one more step," Thomas Jefferson mumbled, "It'll be the farthest away from Montecello I've ever been!"
"Oh, who gives a hoof?" Abe snarled with gnashed teeth (a difficult thing to accomplish when one has extremely bushy eyebrows).
"Ack!" squealed John Adams. "I just swallowed a ladybug! OH GOD, A LAAAAADYBUUUUG!!!!" He fell to the ground as a recently-shot deer might have, had the recently-shot deer been named "John Adams." He laid motionless with his tongue extended in a rather unattractive fashion. Then he clutched at his throat with his hairy Federalist mitts. "Bleech, bleech," he added as an afterthought.
Abe promptly kicked him with his boot. Hard.
"Abe!" James Madison exclaimed, leaning down and clinging to his Spatula of Justice for support. "Why, I do believe you have something stuck to your boot!"
"Bat's muh toofs!" yelled a withered old hag-man from the town they had recently pillaged, looted, and plundered in the name of George Washington (may he live on!).
"Well," interjected Ben Franklin, who had just come from the loo and felt it was his inalienable right to share the punchline, "I guess you could say that Abe finally stuck his foot in his mouth...though, well, not HIS mouth, but A mouth, anyway!" Pause. "MWAH!"
"Yeah, that wasn't funny, Ben," Thomas Jefferson snarked. Then he quickly hit Mr. Franklin over the noggin with a rolled up newspaper. Oddly, in that exact same newspaper, the front page read, "Thank Gourd this painful bit is over!"

Life was good!
---
50% of Americans secretly wish they could own a camel.

I've Got Shingles...Who Could Ask For Anything More?

2004-08-11T18:04:00.000-04:00

"The Shingles Jingles"

Anyone who mingles
With a person who has shingles
Feels some painful tingles
From their head down to their fingles.

It may seem outrageous,
But that person is contageous!
So if you're elderly
Or contracted HIV,
Please, just don't go near
Because it's chicken pox you'll fear!

---
The Company-Mandated Phone Greeting Example:

"Thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanks for calling Game Zone, where for only five dollars you can reserve Britney's Strip Tease for the Game Boy Advance, rated 'E' for 'everyone,' coming out October 8th or the mature-rated first-person shooter Mickey and Goofy's Prison Break for the Playstation 2 coming out in time for Thanksgiving on November 15th, and where you can trade in all of your disgustingly dirty, broken, roach-infested and disease-spreading used games and consoles that we honestly don't want and we will pay virtually nothing for, and where you can get a discount on all the used games and consoles you actually buy with our exclusive game zone card that we'll be sure to force upon you repeatedly at the checkout counter until you acquiesce and your soul is finally ours...my name is Marge, how may I help you?"

*click*

Now THAT is good marketing.

---
Helga says: "Don't be rudel, eat streudal."

Holiday Bacon: Exposed!

2004-08-04T18:23:00.000-04:00

The Camel Controversy With Robert T. Bruce!
Part Oomph: The Scary Puppet

"Mmnnnn....nothing like the feeling of warm cloth settling against the loins!" yawned Robert T. Bruce as he dismounted from the pole vault that was his mule. "I don't even care about Mount Olympus! Do you know why? I hate those ghastly pomegranates, and I understand that they are quite abundant in the afterlife!" he explained to his diseased companion, Pablo Peculiar. "I shan't miss a thing if I go to Hell instead," he reflected into his travel mirror.
"That's nice," replied Pablo (who wasn't).
"And furthermore," Robert T. Bruce interrupted, "I daren't wonder what I should look like in a toga!"

Silence.

"A HUH HUH HUH HUH!" He added, shoulders twitching with mirth. Pablo Peculiar said nothing. It was almost as if he had been stricken with a nasty case of the measles, which of course, he had. Robert continued, much to the dismay of the audience: "From this point forward, Pablo, we shall not wont for amusement, for I am quite the jester! I fancy myself immensely!" At this, he dismounted again and headed toward the castle conveniently placed a few yards away.

NEXT SCENE: AT THE CASTLE DOOR

"It's loched."

(drumroll)

"Oh, bother!" squealed Robert T. Bruce. "I forgot the password! Now what was
it...antelope? Marshmallow? Crippled Monkey With Hoof and Mouth Disease?"
"Why," interjected Pablo, "don't you just use the key?"
At this point, a very large rock fell from the sky and struck the ground a quarter mile away from Robert T. Bruce. He reacted as a child would have, given the circumstances. "Oh!" he faltered (and fell). "Oh, my head is swimming! My heart is racing! That rock was nowhere near me!"

Pablo graciously changed the subject (and his bandage).

---
The Truth About Holiday Hiring

I found myself in the middle of a corporate skirmish. Our regional manager insisted that I hire 12 people for the holidays, when we clearly could get by with 8, and in fact, would only be generating enough income to comfortably support 7. "People get tired!" she explained. "We need to switch people from the register to the floor so that they don't get burned out!"

Don't get burned out? What was this, the military?

"..and you can cut your hours by 15."
Ah.
"..and make a prominent display for all of those unwanted strategy guides for delisted dreamcast games that nobody owns!"
Er...?
"...and make sure you ask everyone to reserve something, even if they're three years old, don't speak English, and have no arms! Sell, sell, SELL!!!!!"
Oh.
"...and stay within payroll!"
Uh..
"God, I'm beautiful," she exclaimed as she took a break from barking orders to examine her reflection in our newly-polished glass cabinets.
"Well," I ventured,"I don't really need anyone else on my staff. I can't train them if I don't have training hours, and to avoid going over payroll I need hours--"
"SILENCE!" she shouted, even though we were two regrettable feet apart. "We must make money for our wonderful company! Our company treats us so well! They give us evenings and weekends off, and vehicles to drive, and free laptop computers.."
"I don't get any of that," I interrupted.
"WHO CARES??!!" she responded. "I GET THESE THINGS AND THAT'S ALL THAT MATTERS!!"
"I don't understand how I'm supposed to take on five new people, train them while cutting payroll hours, and still get everything done during the busiest part of the year. You won't even allow overtime!"
Her face contorted into various expressions, almost as if she were trying to squeeze out some kind of intelligent response. This proved to be too much of an effort, however. "THE COMPANY IS RIGHT! THE COMPANY IS WONDERFULLLL!" she sang, and did what I gathered was supposed to be a "Corporate Happiness Jig." Then she turned around to face my staff: "I DON'T HEAR ANY SELLING GOING ON!"

The madness continues...
---
A recent poll showed that 54% of llamas prefer the taste of root beer to Mountain Dew. My question is, "What about Mello Yellow?"

Fin.

Llamas in Orbitz (The Defunct Canadian Drink)

2004-07-27T20:58:00.000-04:00

Gertha likes blogs. Stay tuned for details!

But first, a charming tale full of wit and excitement:

The Adventures of the James Madison Fan Club
This episode: Blueberry Justice!

"What's that?" cried James Madison as he pranced around a mulberry bush on his imaginary horse.
"A frog," replied Abe Lincoln from behind a cherry tree (the one that George Washington didn't unleash his fury upon).
"But it has a beak," interjected Thomas Paine, who was full of common sense and desired to share it.
"Okay, so it's an orang-u-tan," Abe admitted. "But frogs aren't hyphenated like orang-u-tans. How unsightly!" He fanned (and fancied) himself.
"MOO, MOO!" exclaimed John Adams in agreement, and he earnestly flapped his arms like a rather large mutant ostrich caught in the violently fatal clutches of a jell-o pudding pool.
"I hate that John Adams! I daresay he's too tall for my liking!" snorted Abe, who then saved us all by ending the story.
---
Melodramatic Musings:

People have this uncanny knack for making me want to annihilate things with my fists and my dull vegetarian stegosaurus teeth. People make it their business to bother me. I love Frank Perdue. Jim Perdue is pretty cool, too. They would never bother me. I guess that says a lot about chickens, doesn't it? Anyhoof, I have a lovely rubber chicken collection, and I'm always adopting. Do you know of any rubber chickens who desire a good home? Send them to me! I promise to cherish your chicken!

Corollary:

If a moose sneezes in the forest, and no one is around to hear it, will the moose bless himself?

Tangent:

Opposite over adjacent.

In Conclusion:

Ditto.

P.S.: Marmaduke is not funny.

Impulsively-Published Intermission Time!

2004-07-27T11:19:00.000-04:00

DISCLAIMER:

This blog is endorsed by crazed dachshunds!! For those of you who have never met him, this is Schnitzel. He enjoys chewing on squeaky toys and taking long walks on the beach. He loves yummy chummies. Don't mess with him.

(Schnitzie! )

Rubber Chicken Extravaganza!

2004-07-26T00:17:00.000-04:00

This is the first post! Excitement abounds!! The fonts are scary, however.

Turkey dogs? Oh, no. That must've been Sheriff Slobbitt.

Never trust a panda. It might eat your hand-a.

Snooze cruise!