Face Book em Danno!

Composite sketches of suspected criminals are frightening. Probably because the eyewitness supplying the description for the composite sketch caught the assailant when his/her face was at its creepiest. Geez, witnesses! Way to focus on a person when they're at their worst! How about adding a smile to your description? That's what I'd do. I'd describe the assailant's face in all possible scenarios so that its easy to identify the them in a wide variety of situations. Take this guy. Here is his face at its creepiest.



Now here's his face after he received a helpful coupon in the mail...





Now here's his face while he winks at a pretty lady at the disco...



Now here's his face while he's posing for a high school yearbook...

My Favorite Ship

Some say they don’t believe in leadership. They try to get you to believe in other things like not-being-a-dickship, knowing-your-roleship, or meeting-a-group-needship. People who say these things are hippy idiots.

You should be a leader at all costs.

You should be a leader regardless of need.

You should be a leader regardless of how many people are already leaders in a given situation.

When you walk into a room, you should assume there are 35 to 40 leaders present. Intimidated? STOP IT! That just means you need to be leaderier. Here are the only two ways to do just that.

1. You need to have more leather bound notebooks to document your important thoughts.

2. You need to own a fancier wind breaker for lake front jogging.

If you'd made it to the end of this post I need to say something that's going to blow your mind... you are a freaking FOLLOWER. You should have been the one leading me to the end. You fail. You aren't leader material AT ALL. Take that million dollar bill off your wind breaker and eat some Cheez-Its like the rest of the non-leading society.

Speak Easy

I wish I could speak in italics. Mastering italics would arm me with a more succinct way of speaking. Currently, no one knows whether I am speaking a book title or speaking words that happen to appear in the title of a literary work. One time I said, “In The Black Stallion…” and I was interrupted by my friend who said, “which black stallion is THE black stallion and when were you, in a Jonah-ish fashion, in a black stallion? I thought we were BFFs and that, my BFF, is most certainly exchangeable, BFF quality information.” So, because I could not speak in italics I was forced to say, “ In 1941, author Walter Farley, published a novel which he entitled The Black Stallion. It is this aforementioned work to which I will, in the next several sentences, be referring."

Its an American tragedy.

From the Mysterious Archives

I was browsing through some old word documents and I came across this gem from 2001 entitled "centaur." Below is the piece in its entirety:

OK. Let me just say this. A person cannot pick who their parents are. They just can't. Why would you hate someone just because their daddy (or mama) was a horse (or centaur)?! If that isn't discrimination I don't know what is. Centaur Americans have been through more than any other cohort ever. Two words, Concentration Stables. I think Centaurs are heroes. Let's review American history, shall we? Do you know how many Centaur Americans died at the Boston Tea Party? 987. NINE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-SEVEN. You know why? They didn't have the dexterity to throw tea in the river with their hooves so they had to gallop to the shore. Do you know what happened? They fell in the river. One by one. What is wrong with you? Centaurs aren't stupid. They are brave, moderately smelly American PATRIOTS.

Ummmmmm. What?! I have NO idea why I wrote this. I'd like to think it was in response to something centaur related, but let's be real there's a 40% chance it wasn't. Why am I posting this? Wrong question. Why aren't you posting this? Probably because you hate mythical beasts. Now who's ridiculous?

He’s Baaaack & Your Education

Post 1: He's Baaaaaaaack

I awoke this morning to what’s becoming my favorite morning greeting. This guy’s face!

Now that he’s got a government funded college grant under his belt (see the post below) , Mr. Sass E. Frass thinks he knows it all and is trying to tell us simpletons how to manage our mortgages. Someone’s too big for their old timey britches.

Seriously I think these people just take pictures at nursing homes and force people into involuntary model-tude. Sorry, can't win 'em all, Old People.

Post 2: YOUR Education!

As you may be able to tell by my regal demeanor I’m a part of a fucking coupon club society thing. Look at the email I got today, folks! A COLLEGE COUPON!!
And, you have two very amazing options. You can:

“Continue Your Education” or you can “Continue your education.”

You r-tards are probably like, ‘Oh what’s the difference. My name’s Society.’ Listen here society while I use my giant think blob to enlighten you. You know how when you talk about God you have to capitalize the H in he? Well maybe the first link is for God and the second one is for everyone else. Chew on that, llama face.

More than Words

I saw this banner ad while checking my Yahoo email. Unfortunately the top of it is cut off. Allow me to recap:

Make less than $45,000 a year? You may qualify for a grant to go back to school.

Clearly this man can and should get his doctorate in Television and Microwave repair and god dammit he shouldn't have to pay. Thanks advertising!

You're Amazing... to some

Have low self esteem?

Talk to an OLD person!

Feeling weak?

Ugly?

or dumb?
Talk to an OLD person!

Old people cure all your self-esteem challenges. Old people think everything you do is impressive because they themselves have limited abilities! Listen to these drawing based testimonials!

Testimonial #1:

Testimonial #2: Testimonial #3:

The Winter Olympics is a Dick

Talk about a guest overstaying its welcome. I get it, ice is dangerous and snow makes you move fast. How about a game that's a challenge? Like "barefoot, blind, ice-running" or my latest invention "Skate High-5." Here are the details.

Team size: two people per country.
Estimated fan base: 1 zillion plants, animals, or other.
Rules: Each player stands at the opposite end of an ice rink. They both put up their right hand and hold it in position... maybe it gets locked in by some mechanism to prevent ice cheating. Not sure. Doesn't matter.

Then each player pushes off (THEY CANNOT SKATE, JUST PUSH OFF) and their goal is to meet in the center and high-5 in the most dramatic fashion possible. They cannot over shoot or under shoot the distance and they cannot move their hands to meet the other player's.
Truly that’s the hardest game in the world. None of this 'oh look at me, i'm sitting on a vehicle intended for snow and riding down a hill' bullshit.

Power Meetings

I've been to a lot of meetings lately and my feedback has been "great meeting , but where's the POWER?" Of course no one knows.... except for me. Here's how you add power to a meeting.

Enter the room 4 minutes late and ask, "Does anyone have any questions?" Stare at the audience in complete silence until someone asks a question. As soon as they do, tell them 'Please hold all questions until the end.'

Then begin the meeting. First start out by saying that you aren't used to giving presentations to people with such low personal appearance standards.

Then make a statement that's meant to trap and humiliate all meeting participants. Say something like, 'So this is what the 4th quarter reports should say, right?' If people nod their heads say, 'WRONG!', throw a lit cigarette at the person closest to a door (hopefully a pregnant lady from accounts receivable), and storm out of the room.

Together, we have the power... TO RUIN A MEETING!

Batty Cathy

I make some pretty cool observations and remarks multiple times a day, everyday. Life changing ones, you guys. I really think the government should commission a task force especially assigned to hanging out with me in case I say something cool. Don't believe me? Well listen to this evidence.

Exhibit A:
The other day, Dan went somewhere stupid and left me at home. I had to ask my dog, ‘Don't you think the John Hancock Building looks like its wearing a headband, like one of these sweatbands?' Of course Nitro IGNORED me. Question wasted! Exhibit B:
1 hour later I recalled aloud a conversation I once had with a sassy tollbooth worker. '"He was like, 'You have any bills smaller than a 20' and I was like, 'No.' And then he was like, 'FINE.' And I was like, 'Sorry for having money.'"

Imagine how upset Dan would be if he knew he missed an unsolicited story about a tollbooth based encounter I had 5 years ago. Just imagine. Wait. Don't. I'll just draw a reenactment/dramatization. Please enjoy.

PS. Dan is not religious, but I assume that he will need to find God after enduring such a traumatic event.

Two Questions, One Sentence

There was a very important email waiting for me this morning in my Yahoo inbox. The title was 'Personalize Your Checks!!!!!' Here's the body of the email:

Judging by that mime's picture he had a sensational personalization experience! Although, I wasn't so sure check personalization was the right move for me. So I responded:

Not 11 minutes later, I received this response:

I declare you the winner, Mr./Mrs./Ms./Dr. Personalized Checks by Deals and Coupons Newsletter. I'm not being sacrastic when I say this, that's the funniest line I've read in a while. What's the point of this post? Almost nothing. Well I guess this shows that I'm woman enough to publicly recognize when I've been defeated. Also, I just wanted to let you know the internet is a dick.

Baby Sword Appreciation is Lacking

Using scientific research methods, I learned that most babies are indifferent to swords. Believe it or not, they're completely unfazed when you show them one. When you're like, 'Hey, baby, check out this sword,' they're usually like:

Even when you're like, 'Hey, baby, watch me demonstrate this sword's killing power,' they're like:

Sometimes I just think that babies don't appreciate weapons. Its a major flaw in their collective character, I think.

Bad/Good Tattitude

I'm not rich but I ever become rich the first thing I'll do is get a tattoo. This is what it will look like:


Note: This tattoo hinges on the assumption that when I'm rich, I will frequently make it rain.

After I become rich, if I ever become "not rich," this tattoo will be ridiculously inaccurate. Consequentially it will have to be modified. Here is my proposed modification.


Note: This tattoo hinges on Abe Lincoln having a uni-brow.

The situation complicates itself if I somehow become rich again. In that instance I will have two tattoos that will surely embarrass me in business meetings due to their heinous inaccuracies. I know you're thinking that I should just devise another tattoo related plan to correct these ridiculously inaccurate ones. That's where you're wrong, Squanto. How's about you devise a plan to just accept me for who I am, tattoos and all, butt? I've already led a harsh, rollercoaster-ish life as a rich and then poor and then rich again person. Now I got you breathing down my neck. Some friend you are. I think you should get these tattoos.


Note: This tattoo hinges on you liking Michelangelo the best of all the ninja turtles.

Why does God hate me?

Oh that’s right… because I have a vagina.

If there is one thing Israel has taught me it’s that God totally hates me and all other women. Now I know some of you readers out there are of the lesser gender so I’ll take it slow as not to "box" you out of the conversation. Get it? Me neither. But seriously, I’ll take it step-by-step just because I’m certain your minds are too menses-ed to think of anything except flowers.


FACT 1: Many religious men will not shake a woman’s hand.

And thank God they won’t! This is an illustration of what happened one time when I tried to shake a Rabbi’s hand.

That’s right. I got goddamn Midol all over the place. Like a total butthole.

FACT 2: In some traditional temples, women have to sit behind the men and then BEHIND a half wall as services are being held.

Once again, thank Gody God. Think of what would happen if my eyes saw the front of a man’s head as he was listening to ancient references!!!!!!!!!! Truly the words from 3000 years ago would lose their direct applicability to these modern times. Plus this might happen:

That's right. I might get goddamn Midol all over sacred documents.

FACT 3: When at the Western Wall, women must be separated from the men. i.e. I have to pray in a small, lady-only praying pen

I totally get this one. I mean, what if our prayers got mixed together?! See illustration of time when my prayers infected a man’s prayers.

Conclusion:

God isn't here so I'm really glad these kind messengers are around to tell me exactly what he wants and thinks! And, really, who am I to nay say? I’m the self-loathingest broad to broad it up. Seems that me and this God character see eye to eye. Thank you, for reinforcing his will, dignified-men-of-tiny-hats-and big-hygenic-shortcomings!

In case I explode...

Electronic will time!!!!!

I'm pretty sure I'm not going to survive the trip I'm currently on. Its cool, man. I accomplished pretty much everything I wanted to last weekend. I had a super productive Saturday. I mean, I made and then consumed an entire pie in 12 minutes!!!

In case I do die, I wanted to leave you all with some parting words and some pretty hard core demands/threats. For one thing, one of you mothers better publish my poetry. All of it. Especially the one about the hippo with low self-esteem.

Secondly, I need to say that I loved a few of you more dearly than I ever said while some of you I hated more deeply than I ever thought was humanly possible. In fact, I was planning on killing most of you. See diagram.

Lastly, you better believe I'm haunting you, HILARY HAMILTON. Good luck sleeping when you got me softly and sweetly singing the Golden Girls theme song in your ear every night.

Halloween themed blog post. Halloween themed blog post

Very recently I was reminded of Halloween and now I'm in costume planning mode. As many of you know, my costume agenda is to stick it to the man. I've identified the most effective means of doing so and its represented by the following super scientific equation.

Wear a slutty outfit that's totally retarded + 0 = wear a slutty outfit that's totally retarded

I know its a bit early to be planning for Halloween, but, as some of you may know, I am no scientist so I gots to get the old think blob a-cracking. Alrightie, folks, here's what I have so far. Your feedback is much appreciated.

1. Slutty Professor Mullet: Some of you may know about my love affair with this idea. Its a triple whammy. I'm slutty, but I'm an intellectual who happens to have a mullet. Think about it. Tweed jacket, mini skirt, monocle, & mullet. Fucking confusingly beautiful.

2. Slutty captain crunch: Self-explanatory.

3. Slutty morbidly obese upper body lady: Super fat arms with mini skirt.

4. Slutty Fetus: Will require full nudity and access to umbilical cordish materials.... and human blood. Also, will need protection from pro-choicers who will certainly want to abort me.

Blog Posts are No Contest

The following is a completely true story:

I was driving the other day and a sign caught my eye. It looked like this:

"Safety is no contest."
Eileen Wilson (grade 6)
Safety Contest Slogan Winner 2008

Before I go into the girl genius that is Eileen Wilson, I must say that the judges of this safety contest didn't think through the fact that you have to know the slogan was generated from a contest to understand why anyone would be linking safety to a contest.

On to Eileen Wilson. That broad has it all figured out. When trying to think of a slogan, just say something isn't the thing that it’s clearly not!! It’s that easy. Here's an ad I just came up with for toaster strudel.

Toaster Strudel: It’s not Monkey Bars!
Rachel Lada (grade 20)

PracticalRuleMaker

If you ask me the first rule of Fight Club should be don't bring any freaking babies*.




*I mean literal babies.

Censorshit

Dan just informed me that the Chicago Tribune censors the word "fart." Here's the context:

Mark Anderson might be the worst (gas-passer) ever. He takes these protein shakes, so he smells like little babies do.

Who are you censoring that for? Children? Really? You think kids learn about farting by reading the paper. This just in Chicago Tribune: You're dumb as vaca caca.

Or maybe you are censoring it because you paper chaps are trying to transfer your high society moralist view to us street urchins. Well listen Thurston Howell the IIIs, I hope you explode.

What's the big deal with the word fart? I can think of much more offensive replacements. Here she blows:

crap cloud
fecal vapor
reverse anus deodorant
poo puffs
a visit from Uncle Shitbreath

Getting Ahead Without Giving It

The best way to obtain the upper hand at work is to belittle your boss's appearance. Follow these 3 easy steps:

Step 1: Your boss says you are crappy at your job. Respond with "Well maybe I would be better if you didn't look like the Pringles guy."

Step 2: Your boss tells you calling her the Pringles guy was out of line. You say "Maybe you wouldn't look like the Pringles guy if you didn't look like the Pringles guy."

Step 3: Stick your hand out and ask for a raise. Cash. All unmarked bills. Tell her to not trip the alarm or you'll kill her family.