Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Brain Nuggets

  • My brother and I used to have a paper route. There was this old woman that always complained if the paper was ten minutes late. She would leave us a nickel for a tip. She was just a mean old lady. She's dead now.

  • Isn't it cool how Tylenol knows exactly where to go when you're in pain? If you have a headache, it soothes your head, if you have back problems, it works on your back. I wish all medications did that. Imagine if you took one of those Plan B pills, but you weren't pregnant, so instead it kills all the egg sacks a spider laid in your ear. That would be really useful.

  • In The Matrix, when Neo downloaded kung-fu into his brain, and he says "I know kung-fu," what if it had instead been "I know Shaq-Fu"? would we have been spared those two terrible sequels? Like his Shaq-fu just finishes off all the bad guys at once?

  • Last summer I toasted marshmallows over a fire pit. I love to burn them beyond recognition. My marshmallow looked like Mel Gibson in The Man Without a Face. It tasted anti-Semitic.

  • If I did drugs, I would tell people I'm on a seaweed diet. Then I'd say "I see weed, and I smoke it!" And my friends would all laugh, because they'd probably be high.

  • Once when I was a kid, I took my brother's pillow because it was fluffier than mine. That night I had a dream that a creepy old woman wanted me to cut her head in half with an axe, but I didn't want to. So she kept showing up everywhere begging me to do it until I finally did. Scared the ever-loving poop out of me. I never used that pillow again.

  • When someone mentions they have black widows in their basement, I always hope they mean that a couple of African-American women who's husbands died are renting their basement. But that's almost never the case.

  • I guess it's not right to shoot someone's cat if they come onto your property. That's why I plan on getting a moat. Filled with sharks and broken glass. And lava. And if a cat happens to wander into it, well...

  • If you say "sex scandal" a bunch of times, it sounds like "sex candle". And you can actually buy penis-shaped candles, but the thought of a burning willy makes me uncomfortable. I think people use them in voodoo rituals to give their enemies Chlamydia.

  • If I was a scientist who didn't wear pants, would people say "He's smart, so he must be onto something!" and they'd all take their pants off too, or would they say "He's not wearing pants, so he must be one of those mad scientists." and storm my lab with pitchforks and torches?

  • I think we should all be grateful to our moms for not suing us for domestic violence because we kicked them as a fetus. She could have had all these witnesses come forward and say "It's true. I felt it."

  • Sometimes, instead of writing a new post, it's easier to just copy and paste a bunch of stuff you wrote elsewhere and call it something trite like "Pieces of Me" or "Brain Nuggets."

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Or Else What, Mr. Flapjack Sam?

A few years ago, I lent Mr. Schprock my copy of LOST Season 1. He returned it when he was finished, and I let him borrow Season 2. He was ready for Season 3, but I didn't own it yet. I told him he could borrow it as soon as I get it, but then, well..things took a turn.

With only a few episodes left until the series finale, I'm still banking on some of my crazy theories being true. But it wouldn't be fair to spoil my former co-worker by mentioning them here; it's bad enough he still has to work with Joe. So I can't say anything about Frank, or Miles, or Juliet or even Ben. He wouldn't know who they are. Instead, I will regale you with this epic, spoiler-free review by a guy named funk yant.

by funkyant




Funkyant may not know much in the way of spelling and punctuation, but he sure knows how to weave a good story. I think it's safe to say that I would absolutely watch that episode. Even Alan Dale would watch that episode. Of course, I'd also watch Cue, the Gay Ass Trombone

Monday, March 29, 2010

Gasification, Baby!

It seems eda's been chatting up a whole bunch of people. Spreading her provocative artistry here, here, even here, on this Spanish-language rock & roll blog. But eda's a ghost; wiped from existence again and again. In all instances, only references to her sexy trouser poetry remain. I guess the world isn't ready to jump wireless the egg.

With eda nowhere to be found, I feared that I would never learn the meaning of "gasification baby." Thankfully, I found, which appears to be China's answer to Tootoomart doesn't dabble in anything as ribald as sexy T-shaped trousers, but they do sell inflatable Minnie Mouse chairs for children to fart on.

They even have big name sponsors. Check out this banner ad for the movie 2012:

I have to admit, I thought that movie looked pretty stupid, but that tagline really pulled me in. I might have to rent it afterall.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Dig Those T-Shaped Trousers, Jack

We are not alone. It may seem that way, with the absence of Trina and NYPinTA (I think she's still mad that I almost broke her face) but make no mistake, there's a new disciple of the House of Squeeg.

I've recently noticed a couple of older posts had comments by someone I didn't recognize, eda, written in what appears to be Chinese characters. What kind of praise could eda be heaping on me? Or was it scathing MSG-laden criticism? I had to find out, so I cut and paste them into babelfish, which I know is not the most accurate translator, but it's a start. Here's what our new friend eda had to say:

"The appeal, G spot, the sexy T-shaped trousers, the appeal, the roll play clothing, the suspenders sock, the T-shaped trousers, the appeal thing, jumps wireless the egg, the men and women, Massages the stick, massages the stick electrically operated, the airplane cup, the video, consoles oneself the wrap, consoles oneself the wrap, the appeal thing, the appeal underwear, The appeal massage stick, consoles oneself the wrap, the roll play, massages the stick, jumps the egg, the appeal jumps the egg. , lubricant, SM, underwear, sexy underwear, self-consolation, gasification baby, AV,"

And then it just stops, with a comma. An obvious spambot, you say? Quasi-erotic jibberish, you say? Maybe if you live in Squaresville, Clyde. But dig this; imagine some cat hitting the skins over this clambake in a smokey, dimly lit room. I'm hep to eda's scene, and I dig it.

The appeal, G spot, the sexy T-shaped trousers,
the appeal, the roll play clothing, the suspenders sock,
the T-shaped trousers, the appeal thing,
jumps wireless the egg,
the men and women, Massages the stick,
massages the stick electrically operated,
the airplane cup,
the video,
consoles oneself the wrap, consoles oneself the wrap,
the appeal thing,
the appeal underwear,
The appeal massage stick,
consoles oneself the wrap,
the roll play, massages the stick, jumps the egg,
the appeal jumps the egg. ,
lubricant, SM, underwear, sexy underwear,
self-consolation, gasification baby,

I can almost hear you snapping your fingers in approval. Alas, in my haste, I deleted eda's comments, because at the time, I thought Chinese characters about T-shaped trousers and airplane cups was a bunch of jive. But now I see what I fool I was! I hope I didn't scare you off, eda. I hope you come back and lay some more groovy riffs on us. In fact, I wrote you a little something.
Slap that bass, daddy-o:

eda, sweet eda
so trust-ing
so know-ing
so love-ed?

Thursday, March 25, 2010

The Secret of HeteroNYMH

I was just sitting here and the word "predicated" popped into my head. Then I started thinking and realized that I don't remember ever actually saying or writing that word in my entire life. I've obviously heard it before, and probably even thought it a few times, but it's never escaped my head until just now. That's a long time for a word to be trapped in someone's brain. I wonder if his escape was like the Shawshank Redemption.

Stranger still is that while I've never used the word predicate--that's the verb predi-KATE, as in "To carry the connotation of; imply" or "To base or establish"--in school I used predicate--as in predi-KIT, "one of the two main constituents of a sentence or clause, modifying the subject and including the verb, objects, or phrases governed by the verb"--in English class several times.

See, they're heteronyms; words that are spelled the same but have different pronunciations and meanings. Wikipedia decided to give and example using animal porn:

Do you know what a buck does to does?

The verb predicate is a good, solid word. I should start using it. But...I feel like if I start now, it's going to sound forced. That's no good. I've got to let the words flow naturally. In the meantime, take a look at this word:


If you are of a certain age, you'll probably pronounce it as super-marion-ation, the puppetry technique used in the 1960s by British producer Gerry Anderson, and more recently by the South Park guys in Team America: World Police.

They used to air reruns of Supermarionation shows like Stingray, Thunderbirds and Captain Scarlet on the...ugh...SyFy Channel. They also ran another Anderson show from the 80s using Supermacronation called Terrahawks which featured a terrifying witch lady and a puppet that looked like Roy Scheider in SeaQuest.

But there's another, ever-growing segment of the population unaware of creepy old puppets which will read the word as Super Mario Nation, possibly thinking it's the url for a Nintendo fansite. (It's not. I checked. Talk about missed opportunities.)

It's a generational thing. I guess your age predicates how you pronounce supermarionation. Hey, look at that! Did I use it correctly, or should it be the other way around?

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

The Mystery of the Shamed Businessman

You know those Google Doodles, where they alter the Google logo to commemorate some thing or another? Once in a while I know immediately what they are, but most of the time I have to click on it to figure out what it's suppose to represent.

Last summer I saw one that completely baffled me. It looked like a guy with a box on his head, wearing a dress shirt and tie, bending over with his hands on his knees, the way kids stand when they're in left field waiting for the ball to come their way. Here's an altered version of the picture, to show you how it looked to me:

I thought maybe it was some disgraced CEO or something; maybe it was the anniversary of the Enron scandal. Even when I clicked on the image to find out what it actually was, I still didn't see what I was supposed to see at first. I see it now though, to the point where I don't know how I could mistake it as anything else, but sometimes I still see the guy with box on his head. Maybe not it box; it might be his briefcase.

Now here is the actual image:

Does anyone see the box head guy? Or could you tell what it is right away? It was August 29, which would have been Michael Jackson's 51st birthday. Jackson's socks are the business man's shirt, and the space between them is his tie. Actually, if you look closely, it looks like the box head guy is wearing one of those frilly flamenco dancer shirts. But who wears those with neckties?

So do you see the businessman, Michael Jackson's feet, or both?

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Moral Conflict

So, everybody...oh who am I kidding? So, LL, here's your question for the the day.

What if you could go back in time and prevent World War II from ever happening, but here's the catch: the only way to do it is to have sex with Hitler. You can't trick him and say that you'll have sex with him and then kill him or something, you've got to go through with it. But if you do, he won't invade any other countries or kill Jews or anything. Millions of lives will be saved.

Instead of genocide and world domination, Hitler will focus on music. He'll form a folk group called Der Flying Deutschmen. A protegĂȘ of Woody Guthrie, Hitler will write songs about peace, magic unicorns and a night of passion with a mysterious stranger whose name he refuses to reveal.

In 1959, he'll be mourned by the entire world when his plane crashes, killing him, Ritchie Valens and Buddy Holly. In this WWII-free universe, the Big Bopper took a different flight and later opened a chain of successful fried chicken restaurants across America's Southeast.

I actually have a theory that this was Hilter's ultimate goal all along: To do something so despicable that he'll be seen as the most hated man in history, in the hopes that one day hot women from the future would travel through time to have sex with him to prevent it from ever happening. In fact I'm pretty sure Bin Laden heard about Hitler's idea and co-opted it.

Oh, and don't worry, you can't inadvertently erase yourself from existence in my hypothetical time machine. Technically, you aren't re-writing history, you're branching out from the moment you changed to create a new history. The original still exists, because it can never be changed, like a write-only CD. But you've created this new history in a different location, as if you made changes to the CD file and saved it as a new file on the desktop. So even if preventing the war caused you to not be born in the new timeline, you still exist in the original timeline.

Of course that means when you show up in the present of the new timeline, no one will know who you are, because they have no record of you ever being born. In fact, you might be thrown in jail for not having any ID or proof of citizenship and for fabricating stories about beloved folk singer Adolf Hitler. No one would be able to appreciate what you did, because for them, it never happened, and for the original timeline, it will sill always happen no matter what you do. Or you run into the other you, and that presents a whole other set of problems. Man, time travel is hard. Okay, for the sake of this exercise, we'll say you change the original timeline and definitely cannot negate your own birth.

So...would you have sex with Hitler to prevent World War II? I couldn't do it myself. It's not because of the gay sex that would be involved, it's just that we got a lot of good movies out of that war.

Monday, March 22, 2010

On This Day in Squeegee History

DATE: MARCH 22, 1998 (more or less...)

I was sitting in a booth with Nick and Jose. Jose noticed a clown sitting a few booths behind me. I don't mean the "oh boy that guy's such a clown! kind of clown, I mean the rainbow wigged, floppy shoed, balloon-animal-making kind of clown. Jose told me to look over my shoulder because he continues to think that I'm afraid of clowns, when in reality, I merely would just prefer to avoid them whenever possible.

Anyway, forget about the clown. When the waitress brought us our pizza, she asked me "How's your headache?" And I thought "Well that was cryptic. I don't even have a heada----ahhhhh!" To this day I don't understand what happened. I felt fine until she said anything, then all of a sudden I got a sharp pain in my temple. She was some kind of...voodoo waitress.

This has been On this day in Squeegee History. Brought to you by Pringles.

Pringles. Taste the hyperbolic paraboloid.™

Friday, March 05, 2010

Missed Opportunities

Yesterday would have been a good day for a rousing speech. Because it was March 4th, and you could have been like "March fourth...TO VICTORY!" or something. March fourth...TO ZERO DOWN PAYMENT ON A 2010 KIA SORENTO! And it would resonate with people, because it was the date, and it means to move forward. Now we've got to wait a whole year for the opportunity to come around again. It's a shame, really.

Kind of like how I never got around to writing the second part of my friend's wedding story, and now it doesn't matter, because they're friggin' divorced. Oh, did I just casually throw that out there? Yes I did.

Tuesday, March 02, 2010

A Brief Conversation

For Lent, Michele is eating nothing but some kind of seaweed soup thing, so I went to my mom's house for dinner on Friday.

MOM: I think I'm going to go to the gym Saturday morning.

ME: What gym do you go to?

MOM: Planet Fitness.

ME: Oh, you know who lives right next door?

Mom: No, who?

ME: Jim Nabors.

See, it's funny, because...well, I'll let my brother explain.

GLENN: It works on two levels.

BRIANNA: I don't get it.

MOM: They are gym neighbors, like Jim Nabors? You know "Well Gaw-aw-aw-lly!"

GLENN: Wait, what?

MOM: You don't know who Jim Nabors is? Gomer Pyle?


ME: Hold on, then why were you laughing?

GLENN: I thought you just made up a name for the joke.