ON DINNER
“This place is great! Let’s eat some sort of mollusk or crustacean again!”
ON DATING
“Saw old Millie Beals again down at the gas station. She was buying her weekly ration of Riunite and Pabst. For a 50-year-old woman, she looks like a fantastic 90-year-old. I threw it in her anyway, of course.”
ON SURVIVAL
“The water’s out again. I drank my own urine to stay alive because the ground is too frozen to dig a new well.”
ON WILDLIFE
“The goddammed deer are back again. The same doe I shot at with my thirty ought-six last week keeps nosing around the compost bin, even though there hasn’t been anything edible in there for years. I threw it in her anyway, of course.”
cowboys loss deprives
of gisele-simpson catfight
boners sadly fade
It’s hard to fit the words “Rip Da Bitch Up — Young Jeezy featuring DMX, T-Pain, Z-Rain, F-Train, MCL-Sprain, Trick Daddy, Lil Wayne, Huge Wayne, Hizzle Nizzle, 5-Finger-Fatback, Russ-T Trombonz, produced by Timbaland, Dr. Dre, Eminem, Kanye West, Fognoggin and Perry Como, featured on the motion picture soundtrack from The Fast And The Furious 3: Driving Fast And Crashing Into Shit, available as a ringtone from boost.com for just $2.99″ on a CD label.
In a last-ditch attempt to defeat personal demons and increase my quality of life, I have decided to cleanse my soul by listening to Chuck Mangione’s 1978 hit “Feels So Good” [iTunes link] for the entire work day. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I’ve called up the longer 9 minute 42 second track. Updates will be posted throughout the day.
11:03AM: Song has played twenty times so far. I feel a little sleepier than before I started this experiment.
11:52AM: I wonder what Rachelle, a girlfriend from the summer of 1990, has been doing recently. I’ll bet for sure she hasn’t been listening to a goddamned flugelhorn for over three hours.
12:33PM: Slowly realizing why some people drink on the job.
1:05PM: Someone just walked into my office thinking it was an elevator.
1:54PM: According to Wikipedia, prominent jazz flugelhorn players include Miles Davis, Clark Terry, Freddie Hubbard, Art Farmer, Hugh Masekela, Tony Guerrero, Jimmy Owens, Chet Baker, Chuck Mangione, Maynard Ferguson, Woody Shaw, Kenny Wheeler and Tom Harrell.” Only one of these people is currently torturing me and needs to die.
2:44PM: The song has been playing on my MacBook Pro throughout my group’s weekly meeting. A co-worker asked me, “What’s with the “Sanford and Son” music?” Tomorrow I will be listening to the theme from “Sanford and Son” for the entire work day.
3:38PM: Andrew has suggested I spend a day listening to New York Jets coach Eric Mangini next time.
4:10PM: This has been like being on hold with the cable company for almost eight hours. Which, oddly enough, is shorter than I usually have to wait.
4:24PM: Fifty-four. Fifty-four times I have played this song today. Which is about the same rate as most Eastern Maine radio stations play it.
4:44PM: That’s it, I’m done. Quit midway during the fifty-seventh playing. I’d like to say that I’ve learned something about the nature of man, or could describe a transcendental experience as a result of this experiment. I’d also like to say I have a pony, the prettiest pony on Planet Pony.
All I know is that it really isn’t that hard to listen to a well-crafted pop song for an entire work day. I’d like to challenge the Internets to provide me with suggestions of popular songs — the definition of “popular song” is not firm — that I could not stomach for one full day of work. I can promise at least two independent observers for verification, and one iPod to ensure that I have constant access to the song even away from my laptop. After today’s experiment, I’m pretty sure that I could even handle “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” or “We Built This City” for nine hours. Strike that, I’m sure I could handle five full days of work, Monday through Friday, with either of those songs constantly playing, and at least five independent observers to monitor my performance. Hell, I’ll even print out pictures of the band and decorate my office door prior to beginning. Bring me your worst.
REAL ESTATE
Who lives in a pineapple under the sea? Honestly, look around for something a little more structurally sound. And the smell, my God.
ON ZOMBIES
Q: What’s the difference between a sunset and a zombie?
A: One makes the “sun red”, the other is a reanimated corpse that feasts on the brains of the living.
ON THE DEATH OF QUIET RIOT SINGER KEVIN DUBROW
Hang your head
Metal health has made him dead
AN ENCOURAGING CHEER TO SHOUT DURING YOUR SIX-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER’S FIRST SWIM MEET
Float! Float! Float! Float!
LYRICS FROM MICHAEL JACKSON’S “THRILLER” THAT WE PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE PAID A LITTLE MORE ATTENTION TO WHEN WE WERE PRE-PUBESCENT
- You hear the door slam and realize theres nowhere left to run
- You close your eyes and hope that this is just imagination
- Awesome Eddie Van Halen guitar solo
- Now is the time for you and I to cuddle close together
WORST THING ABOUT THE “JIMMY SWAGGART CONVENTION FOR RESTORING AMERICAN CHRISTIAN VALUES TO A GODLESS SOCIETY,” FEATURING GUEST APPEARANCES BY CELINE DION AND KENNY G, AND HELD IN A TIN SHACK NEAR A MINEFIELD IN KIGALI, RWANDA
Cash bar
THE MOST EMBARRASSING THING I SAID ABOUT THE DECEMBER 3, 2007 SNOWSTORM TO MY PARENTS
“I haven’t seen that many inches in a long time.”
- 2linesnowaiting
- 3menand1baby
- 2guys1girl1pizzaplace
- 2balls1strike
- 2tubgirls1tub
- 3feethighandrising
- 2nice2be4gotten
- 4score7years
- 99luftballoons
- 40acres1mule
- 8675309jennyeatingpoop
(Editor’s note: If you do not know what 2girls1cup is about, I implore you to not find out.)
Call me a political tyro if you must, but I bet if you could get all the Israelis and Palestinians into the same room with a copy of Gigli playing on a large projection screen, they’d forget about all this Gaza Strip nonsense and instead start arguing over whether Ben made J-Lo break off the engagement or vice-versa.
And then while they’re distracted, we could all sneak into Jerusalem and steal the secret pornography stash they’ve been fighting over for the last 3,000 years.
“Usually, when a man quits writing in his journal, it is either because things are happening to him that he doesn’t want to commit to paper or because he has lost interest in life. I don’t know which of these reasons applies in my case, but I rather think neither does.”
E. B. White, One Man’s Meat