Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Word Play

Why are all bad words fun to say?

What was Merriam-Webster thinking when he made "poop" a bad word? Poop is a blast to say. Poop. Say it. Right now. I don't care if you are at work or in an elevator or sitting on your grandma's lap. Poop.

"Booger" is another one. And its brother "goober". What about "testes". Who doesn't wish it was more socially acceptable to walk about talking about "testes" all day?

But it isn't just bad words - there are other words that I randomly try to work in conversations. "Guacamole" for example. It is like a playground for my mouth. "Haberdash" is another. I don't even know what that means, but I make sure to say it once a day for good measure.

But is there anything more fun to say than "conquistador"? Try saying it. I bet you had an accent when you said it, didn't you? And you delivered it in some dramatic fashion, like you were the Dos Equis guy.

"I don't always speak in a Spanish accent, but when I do, I prefer to say 'Conquistador'".

So what are your favorite words to say?

Monday, March 29, 2010

Lord of the Weens

Three nights.

Three movies.

Three hours each.

The Lady Friend and I watched all three of the Lord of the Rings movies this weekend, one each Friday, Saturday and Sunday night.

After lengthy discussions between the difference between orcs and goblins; grey wizards and white wizards and hobbits and haflings, there is one question that could not be answered -

Lady Friend - "It's been 9 hours of these movies and I still can't decide who I'd rather bone - Legolas or Aragorn."

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Head in the Sandra

Listen, I have the love for Sandra Bullock. Who doesn't? She seems like a real human being, is funny, humble, kind and looks like this -

Luckily for her this is America, so with legs like that she probably doesn't have to pay taxes or stop at toll booths. My only complaint would be that even though she is gorgeous, she kinda looks like Ashton Kutcher with longer hair. But I'll let it slide.

But even with parts of me having it hard (TWSS!) for Sandra, I don't really feel that bad for her in this whole "my husband had sex with a slutty, tattooed white supremacist" thing.

You see, she is a fucking idiot.

And I know some of you are outraged right now. You are saying, "But Narm, how can you say these evil things about our beloved Sandra!"

How can I say these things? How about the fact that she chose to be the third wife to a man who was once married to a porn star. Who used to party with Danzig and Slayer. Who stole cars as a teenager. Who slicks his hair back like some hilarious 90's bad boy stereotype. WHO WAS IN A COMMERCIAL WITH WHOOPI GOLDBERG!

When you heard Jesse James cheated on Sandra Bullock, was there any question it was going to be some raunchy girl with fake boobs? Were you surprised? About as surprised as when that KILLER whale KILLED that woman?

And this isn't new. Girls are notorious for this. If girls shopped for cars like they chase men, Toyota would be booming. "There's a chance the accelerator will stick and I'll go down in a ball of flames? Where do I sign?"

Yes, the 'bad boy'. Because normal guys are 'boring', Girls need some 'spice' in their life. And then, when the 'bad boy' cheats on her with a 'bad girl' because he got 'bored' with 'normal' and needed some 'spice' - we are all supposed to feel so bad for the girl and attack the guy for doing exactly what we all knew he was going to do in the first place.

Besides, she'll get back on her feet, and maybe we can introduce her to some nice boys down at the state penitentiary.

Monday, March 22, 2010

No Small Feat

It is almost summer - which means flip-flop weather - which means I have to stare at people's feet for 6 straight months.

Might as well give me a prison sentence.

Seriously. Feet are disgusting. Everyone's feet look a little different, except for the fact that they are all the worst things ever.

So I was watching some monkeys on the Discovery Channel last night and realized something - humans got SCREWED.

Monkeys have hands for feet.


Can you imagine how amazing that would be? I could play Jenga while peeling a banana!

I think evolution kind of fucked us on this one. Can I get a redo? I want to be able to do the best cartwheels on the block.

Instead of having FOUR hands, I have two hands and two things that look like Sarah Jessica Parker on the bottom of my legs.

What do feet do? They walk. Whipee. I could learn to walk on feet-hands. No problem. Feet-hands are probably even better to walk on. And don't even get me started on how awesome my doggy-paddle would be in the pool.

Humans will continue on with their technology and their advanced societies, while monkeys will continue to swing from trees and clap with their feet.

Who's got four thumbs and is winning the game of evolution?

This guy.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Technical Difficulties

Today's blog will not be seen due to the author being a complete Post-St.Patty's Day catastrophe. We hope to have our systems back up and working soon, but a few minutes ago I tried to fart and I might have pooped. Either way it was smelled like the apocalypse.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

4-Leaf Clover Sheet

Pardon me for being insensitive, but St Patty's Day is to day jobs what walking was to Christopher Reeves.

I'm grown up now. I have a mortgage and a fiancee and can grow a REAL beard that doesn't look like some kind of weird skin disease.

But it is days like today that I miss being a kid.

And by kid I mean a drunk-ass 22 yr old college student who made all living arrangements based on being able to crawl home from the bar. Literally.

I miss those days. I miss the ability to be completely irresponsible for an entire day. And then the next day when I was hungover.

So while some of you are out enjoying the warm weather and green beer, I'll be at my desk - thinking about my 401k and wondering if I'll be up late enough to catch Matlock.

But I'll still put some green food dye in my morning coffee.

It goes well with the Bailey's.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Streak of Awesome

I woke up today and, yet again, was completely awesome.

That continues my impressive streak of being awesome to - my entire life.

Seriously - this has to be some kind of record. I have been alive 9,755 days and on each one - awesomeness.

Joe DiMaggio had a hit in 56 straight baseball games. That is damn impressive, and hasn't been touched since. Of course, that is 9,699 days shorter than my awesome streak of awesomeness. Joe DiMaggio also married Marilyn Monroe, so I guess he still came out ahead.

Meet The Press has been on air for over 60 years, but with only one episode a week, their 4,843 episodes is a skip in the park for this endurance awesomer.

Yes. I am the Lance Armstrong of awesome - but instead of steroids I'm jacked up on Barbasol and Fun Dip.

Sure, there are days that are close to ending the streak. But every game can't be a blowout. Sometimes you are keeled over in a Panera bathroom throwing up last night's bad decisions in a trash can while the guy in the stall nervously asks, "Are you alright?"

But true champions fight through the pain, and still make the 3 hour drive to their nephew's 6th birthday party.

Why? Because awesome has no hangover. Awesome takes no days off. Awesome looks straight in the face of adversary and says - "Not today, evil foe. Today, I am going to storm the beaches of the ordinary, grow a beard of freedom and sing from the mountaintops, 'Fuck your case of the Mondays!'"

Because when you bathe in awesome, every day feels like Saturday night, even when your body feels like Sunday morning.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

UFOh My God

You know how sometimes you get stuck in those situations where you REALLY hope your friends don't catch you? Like you are dancing around the house in your underwear to "I'm Still Standing" and then you realize your blinds were open. Or your girlfriend makes you wear something ridiculous and you end up at a bar you know your friends frequent.

I do that with aliens.

For some reason, I am really concerned that aliens are going to come land on our planet and we are going to be doing something REALLY stupid.

What if aliens broke into a high school dance? They'd see all that awkward dancing, acne and Chris Brown songs being played. Of course they would invade our planet after that. We just have to hope to GOD that someone pulls them in the boy's room and gets them stoned, otherwise it would be Independence Day in the school cafeteria.

Or what if the aliens land in the middle of a giant sporting event. How the hell am I going to explain THAT to them?

"You see guys, they use these clubs and try to put these little balls in a hole at the end."

"And people watch that? What is the point? How does that help make food or advance technology?"

"Well - the good ones get to bang a bunch of hot chicks."

Even aliens have to understand chasing the tail.

Monday, March 8, 2010

Secret, Secret, I've Got A Secret

I am the single greatest secret keeper.

You can tell me anything and I won't tell a single person. Not one.

In fact, odds are good that I will have forgotten your secret before you have even finished telling me.

Somewhere in between looking for the best exits / weapons in case of a zombie outbreak, thinking about how funny you would look without a nose and tapping my foot because I want to start talking but screaming over the top of you isn't socially acceptable - I'm not listening to a damn thing you are saying.

This is GREAT for secret keeping.

Not so great for remembering important things about people.

Like when I get to work and I ask how people's weekend went. And they are like, "Um, I was in Egypt for four weeks. Didn't you notice I wasn't around? I mean, we share an office and everything."


The worst is when people tell me something big and important.

"Hey there Rick! What's new?"

"Narm, we talked for over 2 hours yesterday, remember? I was drunk and breaking down. My wife left me. I lost my job. My doctor gave me some horrible new. My kids won't talk to me. I have this super annoying hang nail."

"Dude - you would look SO weird without a nose. Like, seriously, whoa."

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Super Hero Blues

I think we may have been romanticizing the life of our Super Heroes a bit.

Sure, capes are the single greatest fashion statement since Hammer pants. And Super Powers (sorry Batman) would be awesome. And the hot chicks. Oh, the hot chicks.

But lets think about the day-to-day life of Super Heroes.

That's right, Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker, Clark Kent - lets talk about them.

Because they have day jobs. They work 9-5 and probably have a coffee stain on their shirt and are nervous about that big presentation in front of corporate.

I bet their boss even gives them pressure to work a few extra hours to get that big Johnson account finished.

So they wake up to their alarm at 6:30, eat their Corn Flakes while watching the news, get in their car and battle traffic for 45 minutes and finally roll into work at 8am.

Then their coworker wants to tell them about what little Billy did at baseball practice and they discover their lunch leaked so now they have to battle the crowd at the deli on 3rd street.

They just want to use their goddamn laser eyes to warm up this cup of coffee - but have to walk all the way to the kitchen for a new glass. Guess what?

No cream left.

By the time 5pm rolls around they haven't gotten any of their work done and have to stay a few minutes late to enjoy the peace and quiet that finally allows them to do their time entry.

Back in the car - back into traffic.

Home by 6:30, but the cupboard is bare. Mac and cheese...again?

Now changing out of the coffee stained shirt, pulling that damn armored suit on and trying to get their boxers straight underneath all that rubber.

Finally they can go fight crime - but for how long? It is already 7:30 and that alarm is going to come quick tomorrow morning. Sure, they may save a few lives, but at what cost? He's up to 5 cups of coffee in the morning and his doctor is worried about what it is doing to his stomach lining.

By the time the weekend comes he is EXHAUSTED. Maybe a night on the town with friends; but how frustrating must it be to have to hold back the pick-up line, "By the way, I'm motherfucking Batman. Come get some."

So he politely mingles with girls who just want a free drink and then disappears into the night.

Is he fighting crime?

Is he saving lives?

Or is he battling that coffee stain?

Man I hope that big presentation in front of corporate goes well.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Random Thoughts

- I think that 99% of non-Jewish people don't know what a dreidel does but could tell you in a split second that it is made out of clay.

- The Lady Friend (Fiancee?) mispronounces "terrace" as "Terrance". You should see the reaction of the people at the reception halls we have spoken with when she asks if they "have a Terrence out back."

- I know (thanks to Google) that Tacoma means something about snowy mountains - but in my head everyone in that city went to town on taco night and are now in a taco coma.

- The worst time to be a bed wetter has to be asparagus night.

- The Lady Friendiancee and I use the same deodorant. Not the same brand. The same stick of deodorant. Is this more or less gross than sharing a toothbrush?

- Do you think if Eve had never taken a bite of that apple we'd all still be walking around naked? But not in the Garden of Eden - because the bible doesn't mention cable TV. I assume we would have still had all the technological advancements we have now to get us to this point of awesomeness - but we'd all be naked. And without all those stupid fucking clothes, no one would give a shit about Lady Gaga.

Paradise, indeed.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Interactive Story Time

I got nothing.

Sorry guys, I think shaving off my beard made me less creative - like Samson but with a way bigger nose.

So here is what I propose -

I'm going to start a story - and I want you all to continue it in the comments section.

I'll give the first sentence - the first commenter does another sentence, the second commenter continues from there and so on.

This is partially because I am lazy and partially because I want to see where this goes. I hope somewhere sexy. Or scary. Or sexcary. That sounds like a porn name.


There once was a man from Cleveland...

(your turn)