When I was done with college, which is to say when college was done with me, I spent about five months living with my parents, doing nothing. That this was not uncommon for someone in my position was of little comfort to my parents who were eager to see me make something of myself besides drunk. The deal was that as long as I was looking for a job, my parents (my mom, really) wouldn’t interfere in any way. After two months with no sign of me doing anything more productive than showing up at the dinner table, however, the subtle hints began popping up. It started with finding the Classifieds lying outside of my bedroom door, and ended with a statement designed to brook no argument: “You need to go find a job.” Continue reading

I woke up at 5:40 this morning with my throat so dry that I was unable to swallow. That’s always a wonderful way to start out the day, especially when you know you have to go in to work. So I spent the morning doing shots of Dayquil in the office, the afternoon sleeping in bed, and the evening feeling like crap and hoping I’m going to feel better tomorrow. Waaaah! Woe is me, right?

Anyway, I’m going to plop down on the couch and read till I fall asleep. But before I do, I’ll post another video. Check this out. Amazing.

My wife and I took the kids to the mall today. When it’s 111 degrees out and your kids are getting stir-crazy, the mall is a great place to go because it’s air conditioned, it gives your kids plenty of room to run around in (and head-butt other mall patrons in the crotch), and they have a play area where you can sit down and read for an hour or so in relative solitude. At least you can until a little deaf kid sits down next to you and starts telling you something. Continue reading

I’m going to pawn off another oddball video on you instead of my usual blather about doing drugs in college, lighting shit on fire, or lighting shit on fire while I was high on drugs in college. I’ve got a deadline on a serious writing project rapidly approaching, and while I don’t need to drop my running stream of dick-jokes and death threats aimed at the Sham-Wow guy that is my blog, I may need to do one less long post every week to stay on top of everything.

So, here you go. A video that starts off as an innocuous magic trick, but veers into serious nutjob lunacy at the 3:00 mark. He sums it up perfectly when he asks, “Not how. Why?”

Boys tend to go through a phase during which they are fascinated by fire. This phase begins around the age of two, and ends with cremation, whether that cremation was intentional or not. When boys are young, we mainly keep them flame-proof with constant supervision and the kind of over-melodramatic warning parents can get away with when their kids are (let’s be honest here) fucking idiots. By the time boys close in on their twentieth birthday, they’ve got something vaguely resembling a clue (just barely) and spend most of their time chasing girls anyway. But in between, there is a span of three to five years where they are very likely to engage in what appears to be, by almost any standard, brain damaged behavior. “Hey! Let’s soak these grass clipping in gasoline, stuff them in this propane tank nozzle and light the whole thing on fire!” The following story fits into that category. Continue reading

It’s not healthy to live in a constant state of nostalgia, I know that. To endlessly wander around the recesses of your mind, lovingly recounting those magical, long-lost days is to ignore the wonder and joy that exists right in front of you every single day, namely the fact that technology has advanced to the point where you can now watch porn during a funeral. Still, there are periods of my life that I find myself returning to again and again, not so much out of a sense of loss and longing, but as a pleasant reminder of what it was like to be young and irresponsible to the point of constant felonious behavior. I’m speaking, of course, about college. Continue reading

I know a lot of really funny people. Some of them in real life, some online, and some are members of the inter-dimensional race of beings that reveal themselves to me in geometrical shapes when I rub my eyes. But when I want funny, and it’s got to be hilarious, The Onion brings it like a 104 mph fastball every fucking time.

So, not like I need to plug The Onion or anything, but this is so damn funny it literally made my sides hurt from laughing:

Work is still a stress factory combined with mind-numbing meetings, so I’m going the video route again. No post today, I’m too wiped to think straight. Feel free to ask for your money back. I will honor all requests, and by “honor” I mean “send you a large box filled with dog feces”, so maybe you shouldn’t ask for anything at all. I mean, unless you’re into dog feces. You fucking weirdo. Continue reading

You’ll come to hate me for this, I know. You will be in the throes of ecstasy when this video will rear it’s ugly head, and for that I am sorry. But my five year old “graduated” kindergarten today, my daughter got in trouble for refusing to listen to the bus driver on the grounds that “I don’t speak Español” (she’s grounded forever), and shit started falling apart at work today, with people consulting headhunters and full on crying jags. I have no energy to convert into sophomoric dick jokes, and apparently you are paying the price. I’m sorry.

I was thinking about my job benefits today, when I remembered that I have long term disability insurance. For those of you who don’t know, this is a gamble your employer takes on your behalf: “Greg is a very valuable and skilled employee. But let’s be honest here, he’s kind of nuts. So let’s pay a company some money so that when he chops his hands off mowing the lawn on ether, they can pay his salary and we won’t have to feel guilty for firing his handless ass.” Continue reading