Sunday, June 27, 2010

Exfoliating Scrotum Flea Seeds

I couldn't resist trying it again, even though I harshly criticized my wife's expensive kiwifruit exfoliating body wash.

It comes in a pump bottle showcasing its "Health Basics" brand, natural green color and 900 billion floating black kiwifruit seed looking things, which I assume are the natural exfoliators.

In the weeks since I shunned this lovely wife-purchased product, my son and I have gone back to a plain old bar of soap, which cost about 50 cents. In three weeks, we have hardly put a dent in the soap, except on one corner, and that's because I dropped it. In the same time period, my wife, who has had exclusive use of the exfoliating body wash, has used about an inch, or $9's, worth.

Sure, my wife looks gorgeous and her skin is as smooth as a newborn baby's. But that's because she has great genes and she uses $9,000 worth of other beauty products every day. I do NOT for a minute attribute this to the kiwifruit exfoliation product.

In my previous blog post, I suggested that the 900 billion floating black kiwifruit seed things were possibly not seeds at all, but recycled dead fleas. I do not have an electron microscope to confirm this hypothesis, but look at the logic.

Until recently, we had three dogs. To quote Churchill (if he'd had a flea infestation), "We fought them on the beaches. We fought them on the landing grounds. We shall fight in the fields and in the streets, in the bedrooms and in the den. We shall never surrender!" This Churchillian spirit, $100 worth of nuclear chemicals, and significant hand to hand combat eventually beat back the fleas last year. We killed billions. And they looked JUST LIKE these exfoliation things. And we're just one family. What happened to the other zillions of dead fleas?

So anyway, today I am again soaking in a boiling hot bathtub. I am trying to regain limited motion in my neck and back, which froze up after a tree-pruning incident. And with my neck stuck at this particular angle, I find myself staring right at the exfoliating body wash.

It looks so pleasant, so environmentally friendly, so au naturel. It beckons me. So I try a tiny bit on my shin, just to see what the dead fleas will do to human flesh. Truthfully, it isn't much worse than sand from the beach. But that's on my shin.

For the life of me, I cannot understand why any man would risk using this stuff, excuse me for being graphic, down there in the Johnson region. These dead flea things are tiny, and there are billions of them. Water seeps into any, uhm, shall we say cavity. So you just know these seeds would, too. And then what?

Sure, if you knew the flea/seeds would go in and then come out again at Gatling gun like force, every guy on the planet would want this stuff. We'd sell our playoff tickets to get it. Beer up and then go blast your name on the wall, or strafe the snow or a slow-moving pet. Now THAT would be value for money.

But I read the small print on the bottle, and there is NO guarantee that once the flea/seed things go in, they will come out again. Gently. REALLY GENTLY. Without inflicting any flea bites. Or, if the exfoliators really are kiwi seeds, without taking root and eventually growing actual kiwifruit vines in the Johnson area.

Even if you've served in combat, just thinking about the potential collateral damage makes your eyes tear up.

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Thursday, June 24, 2010

10 evil wishes for the internet repairman

Not that I am unhappy with the internet man... Oh no. I've enjoyed being handcuffed at home for 1 1/2 days, waiting... for him... to fix my internet connection... actually refix it... because he 'fixed it' last night... or not so much.

So I hereby offer 10 heartfelt wishes for my internet company.

1) I wish they would get life in the electric chair.

2) I wish they would be told the technician will turn off their electric chair sometime before 7pm, so they shouldn't go anywhere.

3) I wish their management ongoing success as they continue to also manage the French World Cup soccer team.

4) I wish that their virginal 14-year-old daughters go on the road with best friend Miley Cyrus...

5) I wish that they personally lose the next iPhone prototype and get to experience Steve Jobs eating their liver.

6) I wish them to be force-fed nuclear hot Indian currie and gallons of peppermint Schnaps and Milk of Magnesia.

7) I wish that Jack Bauer believes they killed his girlfriend. DAMMIT.

8) I wish that BP be responsible for their swimming pool.

9) I wish that at every future dinner party, they sit with VP Joe Biden, Ozzy Osbourne and the people who make infomercials.

10)And I wish that readers would leave their personal wishes for their internet provider in comments below...

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10 reasons why World Cup "Football" will NEVER make it big in America

1) Soccer has finally "come out" and confirmed it is a gay sport.

2) Americans don't give up. France became the first team in World Cup history to surrender.

3) Americans like collision sports (football) and even contact sports (basketball) but not "beautiful" sports.

4) Miley Cyrus would be a soccer WAG, if she had at least one pair of knickers.

5) "Major" world countries like "Cameroon" are among the best in the soccer world. (Note: at least one World Cup team, Paraguay, would be attractive to red blooded Americans.)

6) No soccer player looks like he will eat your children.

7) Americans believe in celebrating a SCORE but within reason.

8) The Rugby World Cup is held every four years in some stupid, foreign country.

9) How can you scream at the ump if 100,000 vuvuzelas are going BWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA?

10) This is soccer fan food. THIS is the American football, basketball, baseball and hockey fan food.

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Cons Clip Fed Funds

As a hard-working American, you will be pleased that your elected officials have not been so over-burdened with two wars, the BP oil spill and normal everyday sex scandals that they have been unable to do what you sent them to Washington to do.

No, they have been fully focused on solving the housing crisis for YOU the taxpayer ... and for 1,300 prison inmates.

While it could be said that as prisoners, these 1,300 men already have a home, your elected officials wanted better for them.

The inmates, including 241 who are serving life sentences, claimed they had purchased homes and received more than $9.1 million in tax credits.

The Obama Administration reacted quickly to this "hiccup in an otherwise stupendously successful federal program," directing the IRS to "tidy things up".

"The IRS will follow up on every instance of improper prisoner payment and take swift and appropriate enforcement actions. In many cases, this will find the inmates being housed in 5-star hotels while they are tried for crimes that could put them in prison... where they are now... never mind..."

While this first-time home buyer program has well served these inmates, and another of the nation's underprivileged classes, realtors, it, sadly, was not able to address a housing tragedy in Orlando.

A $75 million mansion is having to be sold "as is", after timeshare tycoon David Siegel halted construction of "Versailles" due to the recession.

Versailles may be the largest home in the U.S. at 90,000 square feet, with 13 bedrooms, 23 bathrooms, a 20-car garage, a baseball field and two-story movie theatre, but it does NOT have carpet, tiles or interior walls. The new owners will have to finish the home, which is just down the street from Tiger Woods' Orlando mansion.

The Obama Administration and California state housing officials are working to prevent yet another housing crisis.

Meanwhile, reports are circulating amongst Pasadena realtors that a group of wealthy real estate investors - "N. Jail Inc." - have made a $9.1 million down payment on Versailles and are in discussions with Bernie Madoff to finance the remainder.

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Sunday, June 20, 2010


Our PR people advise:

1) Not to say "small people" when referring to poor uneducated Americans. (Note: In America, "small people" are dwarfs and midgets. Quite amusing...)

2) Not to be seen having fun or being at all happy. Most especially this means not to have fun at yacht races. Don't ask me why. It's a PR thing. (Note: ask my shipbuilder if oil spill could harm "Bob's" new racing hull.)

3) Make sure flowers and minibar are refreshed in Rahm Emanuel's Washington D.C. apartment - the one he stayed in rent free for five years, nod nod wink wink. (Note: Do NOT mention this arrangement or even admit knowing about it. "Knowing about what?" Ha!)

4) Send follow-up card to that Obama chap. Good bean, really. Forgive and forget the rough and tumble in the media. Politician must be politicians. Do invite him aboard "Bob" for next year's yachting challenge. (Note: No jokes about Bob having a "double hull" to prevent oil spills! Must find a place to use that quip.)

5) Send bubbles and hand-written thank-you card to our new PM, the chap who replaced Gordon Brown. Campbell? Candle? Cameron. That's it. Darwin Cameron. High hopes for that young lad. (Note: Get him on the yacht, too. Double hull joke perfect for him, what!)

6) Have someone review paperwork. Find out whether we still actually own BP, and if so, why it's not called 'British' Petroleum any more. A legal thing no doubt.

7) "Get my life back". See point 2 above. Must not allow media to show me having any life whatsoever other than stopping the bloody oil leak. Balls! I did so want to attend Oprah's bash for Fergie. That tart does get her knickers in a knot, what!

8) Next time, before testifying in Washington, must find out basics about drilling oil wells in ocean. Rotters seem to expect that! As if you'd ask Gordon Brown how the British Government runs. No, not Brown, he's gone. That new chap, James Cameron. (Note: confirm we are still "British" Government. BG?)

9) Get PR working on a proper celebration for capping the bloody well. Surely there is something we are 'allowed' to do in public. Maybe hose down a bloody pelican with champagne. Wouldn't that be a photo! (Note: ask operations what WOULD happen if we hosed down a pelican with champers. Be a good skit at the next Board meeting!)

10) Ensure there is an accounting of ALL THIS OVERTIME! (Not counting the yacht race). Ensure this year's performance bonus is deposited well offshore. Spread thin and wide. A bit like the oil, what!

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Monday, June 14, 2010

Nancy Pelosi Lesbian Kiss On Oprah

PR Strategist: Madam Speaker, we need to look at your popularity ratings. They've never been good, but they are officially in the toilet.

Nancy Pelosi
: How bad?

PR: Well, with an aggressive PR campaign, we might get you above BP and Kim Jong-il, but you'd still trail Hitler and George Bush.

Pelosi: Behind Dubya??? What can we do?

PR: How do you feel about kissing? In public?

Pelosi: You want me to lay one on my husband? Like Al Gore did on Tipper? That wasn't what I'd call a freeking success.

PR: We weren't thinking about your husband.

Pelosi: Who then? Surely you don't want me to kiss the President?

PR: Oh no, no, no.

Pelosi: Good, because that would really be pandering.

PR: We were thinking Michelle.

Pelosi: The First Lady! Are you crazy?

PR: Think Miley Cyrus. Sandra Bullock. Scarlett Johansson. Britney Spears.

Pelosi: What have those sluts got to do with me and the First Lady?

PR: They did 'girl kisses' and the scandals got enormous media coverage. We think you'd get a huge ratings bump in Blue States. And think about the Red States. The Teabaggers would go crazy.

Pelosi: They'd spew, wouldn't they? OK, it's worth discussing. But why snog the First Lady? Why not some other powerful woman.

PR: Like who?

Pelosi: Elena Kagan? After she gets confirmed.

PR: Too old.

Pelosi: The German Chancellor. What's her name?

PR: Angela Merkel. Too ugly.

Pelosi: (cringing) . Thank heavens. What about Cher or Hillary or, hey, what about Sarah Palin? I could slip her a little tongue after one of her soccer Mom speeches. The Red States would secede!

PR: All good ideas, Madam Speaker. But our polling is clear. You have to girl kiss the First Lady to improve your popularity, and way before the mid-term elections.

Pelosi: She and the President are OK with this?

PR: They are Democrats. They'll do whatever helps the party. And keeps Hillary on a leash.

Pelosi: Of course. So, where do we kiss?

PR: On the lips. This is for prime time news.

Pelosi: No, what's the VENUE?

PR: Oprah.

Pelosi: I've read Kitty Kelley's book. What if Oprah gets all excited?

PR: No, that would be too much ... even for the Blue States.

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Friday, June 11, 2010

Obama, Oprah and Mandela on the Line

President: Get me 'O' on the phone.

White House Operator: Obama?

President: I'M Obama. Get me the other 'O' - Oprah.

White House Operator: Oh.


O: Hello Barack, you been kicking anyone's ass this morning?

President: Very funny. You should be on television. Look, I need to get media off the BP thing. Any ideas?

O: Invite Princess Fergie to the White House. Get her all likkered up. Give her a briefcase full of cash. That ought to do it.

President: This is not very productive.

O: Rush Limbaugh would say that about your first year in office. What about soccer? Go to South Africa and meet with Mandela.

President: I like that. We can do live remotes to your show, right?

O: Sure. Just get Mandela. Or Justin Bieber. Or Fergie.

President. I can get Mandela. Not sure about Bieber. Can't afford Fergie.

O: Ha. You should be on television. Chow.


President: Get me M.

White House Operator: Michelle?

President: Mandela.

White House Operator: Putting you through now.

Mandela: Hello Oprah dear. How are you doing?

President: It's Barack.

Mandela: silence

President: The other 'O'... President Obama.

Mandela: Of course. Barack, my boy, how are you?

President: In need of some good PR. Can we meet at the World Cup?

Mandela: No, I'm too busy meeting with Justin Bieber and Fergie.

President: silence

Mandela: Got ya! 'O' texted me before you called. She sends her love. Ha.

President: You should be on television.

Mandela: You, too. And judging by your approval ratings, you'll have your own show in 2012...

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Thursday, June 10, 2010

Black Man or iMan in Black? Jobs Beats Obama

Barack Obama is a tall, thin, black man who controls our nukes. Steve Jobs is a tall, thin man in black who controls our iToys.

Obama is thin because the job is eating his liver. Jobs is thin because he kicked the hell out of pancreatic cancer and then got a new liver as well.

Why does the skinny, black man with the nukes wield less power than the skinny man in black with the iToys? Let's review a few case studies.

Issue: BP destroys the Gulf's economy.

: President Obama teleprompts hither and thither, eventually touches a wad of black goo on the beach and looks slightly miffed, then goes all Dirty Harry (lite) about "whose ass to kick."

: An Apple staff member says the iPad or iPhone or iAnything will ship 10 seconds late.

Action: Steve Jobs eats his liver, burns his home, and sells his wife and children into slavery. Oddly, all iToys are shipped on time.

: Those pesky Iranians keep developing their own nukes, thumbing their noses at the UN and the U.S.

Action: The UN has a really looooong meeting. President Obama gives a loooong speech and then goes to a concert, staying "involved and in charge" via his Blackberry. (Meanwhile, Israel is scrambling nuke-laden fighters toward Iran in 5, 4, 3...)

Issue: At least 114,000 i-Pad owners, including White House Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel, have their information compromised, thanks to AT&T.

Obama action: He texts Rahm: "At least my Blackberry is secure. LOL."

Jobs action: AT&T becomes known as "A", as Steve Jobs rips its T&T to shreds with his teeth. Unsatisfied, he i-diverts Israeli jets to headquarters of the former AT&T, which now looks like downtown Baghdad, but with more holes and sand.


Being black, or wearing black, is not the deal. Being i-smarter, i-ballsier and eating the occasional liver is what power is all about.

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Monday, June 7, 2010

Oprah and Fergie's Phone Tap Scandal

(May 2010)

Oprah: Sarah dear, what on earth were you thinking?

Fergie: Stand in line, Oprah. Go ahead and beat me up. I've been bagged by every journalist in the UK.

Oprah: And shagged by every sailor in Wales!

Fergie: Well, it takes a tart to know a tart... So what am I going to do now? My attorneys say I have to give back all the cash. That bloody bank transfer isn't going to happen. I have to move out of Andrew's house. And the only asset I have left is the ranch in Argen-freeking-tina. My sponsors have abandoned me as if I were a scandal slut like Tiger Woods.

Oprah: Not to worry, Sarah honey. Here's what we're going to do. You'll come on my show all fat and depressed. Really gorge and let your skin go. We'll start with your mea culpa and tears. Grab them by the throat at the top of the show. So wear lots of mascara, Sarah.

Fergie: Lots of mascara, right.

Oprah: After the first break, will replay your and Andrew’s Royal marriage and then show heaps of footage of you and Princess Diana. We'll really play on the public's love for Di, the skinny cow. I did NOT say that. After the second break we'll talk about your dire finances, how your daughters are such good girls and they're suffering so much. Boo hoo, more tears. More runny mascara. Think Tammy Faye Baker.

Fergie: After all those tears, I’ll be dehydrated. Can we drink champers during the show? That would be a big help.

Oprah: Nope, the FCC would have a cow. Besides, you need to be distraught, all pitiful and hugg-able, not a drunken sow. We'll get sloshed after the show, don't you worry about that.

Fergie: Oh, very well. But what about money? How much will this net me? We're friends, Oprah, but this is business, and I’m really in the schtuck.

Oprah: Plenty. My people will work out the details. Let's just worry about you being pathetic - tears and mascara and blotchy skin. My viewers will forgive anything if you are fat and have blotchy skin!

Fergie: In honesty, O, I still don't see the big deal about selling an introduction to Andrew. I've been doing it for 20 years. I didn’t do anything vulgar, like outing Andrew as a poof. I'd never do that… Should I do that on your show? Out him? Would that rate? How much would that be worth?

Oprah: Let me think about that. We'd gain big in the 18-49 demographic. We'd pull a 5.9 or 6 and sucker punch Judge Judy! Cow. But the Queen would have our guts for garters. No, let’s not ‘out’ Andrew. But maybe in a few weeks he could come on my show and out himself. No THAT would rate! Sarah, how much would you need to arrange that with old Randy Andy?

Fergie: At least $50,000 in cash, and then a wire transfer of half a million, I mean a million. That's sort of my going rate. And, O, you've got to promise that you won't do any secret filming about the money, OK?

Oprah: Sarah dear, of course we'd never do that. So, I'll see you next week. Eat a lot of chocolate and really blob out, sweetheart. You need to be Princess Pathetic. See you then. Mwah.

Oprah hangs up and calls in her assistant.

Oprah: Make sure the surveillance cameras in the green room are HDTV. No wait! Install the new 3-D gear. Just imagine Fergie and her briefcase full of cash in 3-D. Now that would blow Judge Judy right off her bench. Cow.

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Sunday, June 6, 2010

Top 10 Cures for Insomnia

1) Lie in bed and count Larry King's ex-wives as they leap over his industrial strength hair.

2) Turn on the Glenn Beck program. On second thought, tune in this guy. Same programming.

3) Men, try to think of a single female politician that you'd like to have insomnia with, if you catch our drift, other than Sarah Palin. Women, try to think of a single male politician who would NOT have insomnia with you given half the chance.

4) Tivo the last episode of 'Lost' and try to 'get it'. Your mind will race like a Cray supercomputer, begin to smoke, and then gently switch off.

5) Lie perfectly still. Balance an Oreo cookie on your nose.

6) Mix Tobasco and Tiger Balm. Put a big dollop directly into your eyeballs and onto your private parts. After the paramedics get you out of the tree, they will give you lovely meds to help you sleep.

7) In your mind, create claymations of Oprah, going back and forth from "little pixie Oprah" to "Moby Oprah", and then back again. And again.

8) Place a baseball bat between you and your partner. Start singing "100 bottles of beer on the wall" or the theme from Batman (nunna nunna nunna nunna nunna nunna nunna nunna nunna Batman!" It will soon be lights out.

9) Think of the most boring teacher you ever had. Imagine being in his classroom. He is leading a panel discussion about taxation. On the panel are Paris Hilton and Joe Biden.

10) Tivo the final of American Idol and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

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Saturday, June 5, 2010

BP 'Top-Killed' My Aching Back

I'm typing this with my feet because my back has gone all Quasimodo. Well, that's a slight exaggeration. I'm typing with my nose and one finger, because they have the greatest flexion. Everything else is locked up.

I feel like BP tried to "Top Kill" me, pumping 20 million tonnes of concrete, drilling mud, golf balls, tires, and broken beer bottles down my neck. But, I can't honestly blame BP, although, clearly, they suck.

Primary liability lies with our electric company. We now have to prune our tree limbs away from power lines. This means one has to look UP for two hours while lugging around a 20-foot lopper with a rope that's just slightly too short to grab when the lopper is at maximum extension, which has to be all the time. Middle-age people should not do this.

Oh, I could blame the man cub, because the tree trimming was preceded by cleaning the church, washing the car, picking up 9,000 pounds of moosedawg poop, and mowing the yard - all his duties. But since Junior is gainfully employed today, I shan't blame him. Maybe.

And I can't really blame the 100-pound moosedawg. He is a freak of nature who poops - volume-wise - five time more than he eats. He produces more sludge than BP, plus his special "Good morning!" stomach bile puke and an infinite amount of barks. (Don't EVER ask me to adopt another dog from the pound).

And now, back spasms and shooting neck pains are replacing the Top Kill achey stiffness. So it's either take two .357 bullets and call the doctor in the morning, or swallow OTC meds and take an uber-hot bath... And the bath wins, but this requires blame to be placed. Save us from women on economy sprees.

Bar soap is now out, and the pump thing is in. The first one was actually OK. It pumped a soap-like product, but of course that could not last. The bottle was not pretty and the soap-like substance was not NATURAL.

Now we have natural exfoliating body wash WITH KIWIFRUIT. It is green and filled with 10 billion little black exfoliators. They look too small to be kiwifruit seeds, and none are stuck between my teeth. Honestly, they look like fleas. Floating, dead fleas. That would be the ultimate irony. After spending hundreds of dollars last year to nuke a flea invasion, we are IMPORTING dead fleas in natural body wash to exfoliate away our flesh. Naturally.

So to review:

o my neck and back feel like BP gave me a Top Kill
o the pain is directly traceable to the electric company, the moosedawg, and Junior who, alas, I must blame.
o a crippled middle age man should not have to soak his Quasimodoed body in a three-quarter size bathtub (wife's fault), or scrape away his flesh with kiwifruit seeds or dead fleas (also wife's fault).

Alas, industrial strength Ibuprofen has replaced mother's milk and adult beverages as the chemical of choice in our home. Middle age tends to suck.

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Tuesday, June 1, 2010

10 Things to do on a Crappy, Rainy Day

It's dark and rainy and crappy outside. What to do?

1) Watch "how to be a blog millionaire" videos on the internet until you want to nuke all internet Wunderkinds.

2) Use your Swiss Army knife to try and scrape off that bump rash thing behind your knee that will NOT go away, despite visits to the skin doctor and buckets of high-cost creams.

3) Go to Facebook. Keep clicking on friends' friends' until you find someone who is a friend of Brett Favre. If you do it in less than 20 clicks, you are a sick person.

4) Listen to the Dean the Stream radio interview and learn everything you ever wanted to know about the mentality of TV sportscasters. (Really, listen to it all.)

5) Google 'Larry King ex-wives', ponder why blondes are dumb as rope, and then understand all by reading this.

6) Entertain yourself by putting the names of former girlfriends into an internet anagram website until it kicks out 'slut' or another dirty word.

7) Brainstorm painful things to do to BP execs, starting with 'A' (annihilate arseholes) - bonus points for two words with the same letter -- and ending with 'Z' (Zip them up in large oil spill bags and drop them into the ocean, still dressed in their $2,000 suits).

8) Google 'Will Rogers Quotes' and try to hold your breath until one of them makes you smile. Then wonder how come you don't know more about him, and how on earth he could be from Oklahoma.

9) Spend 5 minutes trying to think of ANY WAY POSSIBLE to make the American Idol final WORSE than it was this year. This is, of course, impossible, but a way to stimulate your brain that's as effective as playing with a Rubik's Cube or scraping your bump rash thing with a Swiss Army knife.

10) Start the clock. See how long you can go without touching your computer, cellphone/Blackberry, TV, IPod, stereo, or scratching your privates. If you can't last 5 minutes acknowledge that your life REALLY NEEDS WORK.

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