Dog Santa Hats

So it's been a hell of a weekend. A good weekend. I sit here in my Big Blue Socks™ and I eat my turkey sammitch and I watch my blinking Christmas lights and all is grand with the world.

The Sooners won a fantastic Bedlam game, and today they moved up to number two in the BCS, which means they'll play for the Big 12 title and a trip to the national championship game. My jazz is flipping tangible.

The only detriment is that I forgot to bring home any candied yams so I am at the moment yamless. My mom made some crazy good yams, too. Yams that were dreamlike in their goodness. Yams that a princess brings you on the back of a snow white horse from a mist covered lake in some enchanted otherworld. I will bring back those yams, and I will finish them. It is my destiny.

I am unable to go to Petco without getting a bag of stuff from the treat bar. I might one day break down and eat those dog treats. The Christmas cookies smell like real cookies. I've seen Charlie eat poop, I don't know why it makes any difference to him whether the red and green Christmas treats smell nice to me. I could eat them and he'd never know the difference. My Yorkie, Lou, she's picky about her treats, but still. I could have the cookies and nobody would know. Those treats from the treat bar are more for the people than the dogs.

I had a friend named David who'd come over and eat dog biscuits. We kept those multi-flavored Milk Bones, and he'd come over and pick out all the bacon ones. He was a weird cat. True story.

I just noticed that I have a follower! Look, over there! -------> Obviously HyperSexualGirl is a goddess with amazing taste in blogs. So, yanno, everybody salute her. 

I never thought I'd be the kind of person that put Santa hats on their dogs, but I found dog Santa hats, and, well...

I'm a weak, pitiful human being.

Please use the picture of puppy Fat Charlie and forget what I just said.

Be excellent.

The Magic Eight Ball Answers Questions

So I asked the Magic Eight Ball some questions and it turns out I'm going to fly to Mars on a green unicorn. It didn't say anything about getting back. I'd assume it would be be Greyhound bus or something but my luck they won't have bus lines on flippin' Mars so I'll be pretty well screwed. I mean, sure, maybe I can ask the green unicorn to bring me back but you know those guys only go one way. That's why nobody ever sees a unicorn, it takes them forever to make a circle. 

At least I'll be able to tell everybody I went to Mars. That'll be pretty grand. I mean, have you ever been to Mars? No, you haven't. So that means I'm better than you. I also have very nice hair.

I don't really think I'm better than you. But I do have good hair.

Magic Eight Balls are awesome because they don't mind supporting your delusions. They just roll around and give you a random statement and you can believe whatever you want. So I want to believe I'm going to Mars. Then I'm going to have three way butt sex with Jessica Biel and Jessica Alba. Because the Magic Eight Ball said so and if it said so it must be true.

Not to mention the green unicorn. It has to be green, I have very specific fantasies.

I need to quit messing around on this blog today and get something done.

Everybody have a grand Thanksgiving! I'll be back Saturday. *nods*

Be excellent.

Hardcore Nudity.

So the title there is just a red herring to get people to click on the link in the google search. I'm sorry if you were all geeked to get a look at my junk.

I used to subscribe to Suicide Girls and every so often you'd read a girl's blog where she'd be upset that people weren't taking her seriously as a human being, they were just jacking off. I can understand that being seen as a piece of meat is pretty degrading. However I also understand that if you are posting naked pictures of yourself on the internet and nobody's jacking off to them, I don't know, I'd be pretty disappointed. 

Which is precisely why there aren't any naked pictures of me on the internet. At least none where you can see my face. Nobody needs to see that. Unless somebody asks for them, I don't know. That would just be weird, though, wouldn't it? I can call myself a chubby Adonis all I want, it doesn't make it true.

So basically what I'm saying is, there won't be any hardcore nudity in this blog. Probably not even any softcore nudity. Unless you count monkeys. Because not only are they always naked, monkeys are always funny. Unless you put them in, like butler outfits with top hats and monocles. Then they're fucking hilarious.

Wednesday my dad's coming out to help me fix the sink. Because, honestly, fuck it all.

It Was Just a Bad Washer...

Turns out the link wasn't where I thought it was. Nor was it in a place where I can fix it without help. I stand defeated. Stupid rat bastard. See, I thought since the water was spraying out kind of all over the place, and since I'd had something like that happening before with the line that went into my hot water heater, that it was just a bad washer. This is what happened with the water heater, so I just imagined that it would be the same thing with the hot water line feeding into the faucet. I still had a bag of washers that was left over from the previous plumbing adventure, so I win, right?

I unscrewed the hot water line, and lo and behold, the washer in there is shredded. So I'm superjazzed. I drop a new washer in there, and I screw the hot water line back on. Well, it takes me a while to get it to line up right, and there's a lot of swearing involved. It gets screwed on straight, though. I turn the water on halfway and I see no spray from the hot water line. I hear a hiss, however, and it bugs me. I run some water, the pressure is good. I'm feeling good, but there's still that hiss. It bothers me. I feel around and I can't feel any water anywhere. At least not in the area where I thought the leak was.

I follow the hot water line down to where it comes up out of the floor and wouldn't you know it, there's a nice little fountain going there. So I go out and turn the water back off and utter a string of obscenities that I don't exactly remember and punch myself in the head. Because overreacting is a hobby of mine. 

That and I saw the drummer from Pitchshifter do it in a video and thought it was cool in high school. Watching it now, though, it's just funny. I don't know what was going on in my head then. This is one of those really unintentionally hilarious videos that I like now for completely different reasons than I first did.

Since then Pitchshifter has gone kind of techno and sucks balls. Anyhow they completely changed their sound and not in a good way.

So there you see I went off on a tangent. I don't think this blog is going to have much of a theme but there will be a lot of weird obtuse angles. Also, we'll have pictures that don't have anything to do with the actual content of the post. Like the hula girls posted here. Basically I just like hula girls.

I have nice hair. Be excellent.

Football Enables Avoidance.

Sooners 65, Texas Tech 21. The first half consisted of Oklahoma running the ball up and down the field making Tech look like a jv team. I am content. 

This is not a picture of that game. I wasn't there. This is from when I saw them play Nebraska. This information I'm giving you right now serves no purpose.

There's a big leak under the sink I have to fix later. The I'm going to have to rip up some carpet. I'm not looking forward to it, I'm hoping to God that the leak is where I think it is. I'm avoiding it for a little bit, at least. I'm going to sit and watch a football game, work myself up to it.

I'd like a jazzy persian rug.

The important thing to remember here is, I have really nice hair.

Be excellent.

I Have Good Hair.

So I heard from a girl I know that my hair looks really, really good. I have my barber cut it the same length all around, it costs a grand total of ten bucks. In fact the guy that usually cuts it moved up the street and I didn't cut my hair for a year because I didn't want anybody else to do it. 

Another lady later said I had nice looking hair, too. So I guess it's official. I'm going to keep this going. Pretty ladies like my hair, so I shall keep my hair the way it is. Pretty ladies, for the purposes of this blog, shall be ladies that recognize that I exist.

Anyhow so I'm going bald and I don't make any attempt to hide it. Yet, no matter how lousy I feel, I can say with confidence that what's left of it is really really flippin' nice.

My good hair has got me a little fan club going. In my imagination. Imaginary fan clubs are still better than no fan clubs, plus with an imaginary fan club you don't have to worry about the president of your fans shooting you in the face. Because imaginary fan clubs don't do that kind of shit.

Because if the President of my imaginary fan club shot me in the face, it would mess up my awesome hair, and all my imaginary fans would be very sad.

Yesterday Buster (who is my hetero lifemate, for those of you uninitiated into the minutia of my sad little life) and I watched Godzilla movies. Well, a Godzilla movie, we spent a good part of the day moving shit. It was Godzilla versus Hedora, and it kind of sucked. I guess Godzilla had to have an obligatory drug movie with a half-assed environmental theme. Hedorah is this giant trash monster that secretes sulfuric acid. These hippies get together and help Godzilla fight the trash monster by building a bonfire and dancing around. Then the trash monster comes and kills all the hippies. So basically the movie was saying hippies are fucking useless. The army finally came with a big heat lamp and thus the trash monster was defeated.

I love Godzilla movies, and I love movies that are batshit crazy. This was a batshit crazy Godzilla movie that I hadn't seen before. I probably won't be seeing it again. It sure the hell wasn't Godzilla versus Biollante, that's for flippin' sure. 

I went off on a tangent there. I can do that, though, because I have good hair.

I also made a red velvet cake, it was delicious. 

Be excellent.

*Now we have Godzilla!

Muffin Tops!

Here's that face-transformation link I was talking about a few posts back. Click on over, have some fun. I look like a monkey!

Does anybody even bother reading this thing?

Next post, muffin tops!

Be excellent.

The Universe Kicked My Ass

So the universe has been kicking my ass all year. I finally got to quit my job only to take a look at my bank account and go right back. It's entirely possible this whole thing has been my fault. Probable, in fact. Ah well, at least I'm employed. 

My bank account is in even worse shape than it was when I had to come crawling back. If there's a lesson to be had in all of this it's that I really should plan things out better. Jumping off a bridge with no safety net is really, incredibly stupid. Have I mentioned today that I hate myself sometimes?

Today I'm just hoping no other major appliances decide to quit working.

Be excellent.

I Wanted A Lemur.

Jim Awad is managing editor of Zephyr. Dude's last name is Awad. Awad. Fuck. Okay I'm pretty immature but that's just hilarious. Seriously, really, seriously, his last name is Awad. A. Wad. My lands.

I'm watching CNN and they're talking about Citibank's 53,000 layoffs. They've got this Awad guy on as a talking head. I miss those two blindingly hot chicks they had during the election.

Time to turn on the radio.

Yanno, just as an aside, what happens to libel laws during campaign season? There's an awful lot of slander that goes on during those things and I don't recall ever hearing about anyone suing over it afterwards. Is it possible that those laws are, I dunno, sort of meaningless? 

This is the kind of stuff I blog about when I have nothing to blog about. Yet I still blog. 

I remember when I was a little kid I saw footage of one of those lemurs hopping across the wilderness of Madagascar. I wanted a lemur immediately. They were just like little weird, uncoordinated people. 

Which brings me to an unrelated point that is somewhat similar. Have you ever watched a meth addict? You notice that they walk like they've lost all motor control while trying to balance a book on their head. They've got this odd upright posture, meanwhile every movement is totally exaggerated. I can't help but chuckle. 

Okay, there's my portrait if I was painted by Boticelli. There's a link to the site somewhere on my computer, where you can upload a picture of yourself and see what you'd look like if you were painted by an old master, or you were a chimp, or whatever. It was a really damned interesting site. 

I'll try and find that link on here one of these days. Hopefully that place still exists.

Be excellent.

Mind the Exits

So it's been a craptastic week. Sometime between Wednesday morning when I got myself a bowl of cereal and Wednesday evening when I got home and tried to make dinner my refrigerator died on me. Thusly everything in there was ruined. Of course I had just stocked up for the month Sunday, so I had a lot of stuff in there that had to go. So, yesterday I got paid and immediately had to go get a new refrigerator, and since my stove was older than the fridge to begin with, I decided to get a new stove while I was at it.

Naturally the new refrigerator has to be too tall to fit in the space the old refrigerator fit in. I could take the new one back and get a shorter one, but since it's a groovy black refrigerator that matches my groovy new black stove and I don't want to load the stupid thing and take it back, I'm just thinking I'm going to knock out the cabinet and make the fucker fit. 

Until then I've had to move the kitchen table and set it up on the other side. 

I am now officially white trash. Thank you and mind the exits.

Be excellent.