I'm going to Disney World!

Ok, I'm not, but they think I am. :) Click the play button if it doesn't start.

Sexiest Man Alive? Please.

Having been invited to guest-blog on Katzenjammer, I find myself faced with the formidable task of choosing a topic on which to write. Now that the bloom is off Obama and Britney hasn’t shaved anything in months, the obvious choices are gone. And so, esteemed readers of Scott’s blog, I have opted to write about what I feel is the most pressing issue of the day (if only to my own estrogen-coloured perspective): the naming of Hugh Jackman as People magazine’s sexiest man alive.

While I certainly wouldn’t boot the Aussie actor out of bed for eating crackers (or, more likely, vegemite), there’s a part of me that isn’t quite sold on him landing in People’s top spot. Realistically, I know he was chosen because he has a movie to promote (Baz Luhrmann’s Australia) and was probably the least likely of Hollywood’s hotties to turn down what industry insiders recognize as the “black cat” of tabloid titles (see footnote below); free press as the world’s sexiest man, after all, also means free press for an artsy, over-budgeted movie that appears to have all the audience appeal of a National Geographic special on sea cows. But even ignoring that glaring fact, Jackman just doesn’t feel like the right man for the job in this day and age. He’s just, well, too pretty.

I feel like we are finally at a place where we should feel comfortable recognizing the less obvious sex symbols of our time without apology or explanation. Forget the life-sized blow-up dolls with more wattage in their smiles than their brains. I want to see the guys who read Wired, can restore my harddrive in a pinch, cook a mean lasagna, and probably had Puppy Chow thrown at them as children. Give me your nerds, geeks and thoughtful fanboys with comic-book collections and secret lives as virtual circus performers on Second Life. Capped teeth and cologne-ad bods are for the unimaginative!

So how about it, People? Would a little realism be so much to ask? Let me be the first to throw out the names of Michael Cera, Hugh Laurie and Kevin Smith for next year’s title. They may not start a flashbulb frenzy on the red carpet, but they can be every bit as sexy – if not more so – than the guys whose appeal lives and dies on their catalogue looks and ability to tear phonebooks in half. Like my good friend Judge Judy once said: Beauty fades, dumb is forever.

* FOOTNOTE: A pop cultural institution since 1985, People's "sexiest" title has gained a dubious reputation for bringing personal and professional plagues upon its winners. Since the award's inception, more than half its honourees have experienced post-win relationship meltdowns, career flame-outs, public backlash and ugly run-ins with the law. One of the genetically gifted men, 1988 cover boy John F. Kennedy Jr., died in a plane crash.

Yay, toast!

This morning, as I was waiting for the 4-slice toaster to do what it's supposed to do, a question occurred to me.

Why do toasters have a "9" temperature setting?

Is there anything that we can stick in the toaster that would require such a high temperature setting without setting off every smoke alarm in the neighbourhood?

We've gone through many toasters over the years, and I've never seen the need for any temperature beyond the mid-point. A 4, 5 or maybe even a 6.

So what exactly are the other high temperatures for? Perhaps thawing frozen bread before toasting? Ok, that might require a 7. On the other hand, has anyone ever thawed frozen bread and have it toasted to perfection in one go? Or does it inevitably pop and require that you push the toaster plunger back down for another few minutes?

Maybe they're in cahoots with the bakers of the world.

I wonder if the toaster manufacturers have an answer to this question.

Man sues Tennessee church for $2.5 million over spiritual fall

KNOXVILLE, Tenn. - A man in Knoxville, Tenn., says he was so consumed by the spirit of God that he fell and hit his head while worshipping.

Man sues Tennessee church for $2.5 million over spiritual fall

For the sake of the human race, I hope at least one (or both!) of the following happens:

• The judge laughs this man's ass out of court.
• The man get a bigger dose of "the spirit of God" so that he doesn't get back up the next time he falls.

Are we having fun yet?

Speaking of packed places...

Pushers

No, not druggies. These people are paid to pack as many people into the trains as possible.



The next time you have to ride on a packed bus, or train, remember these poor souls. :)

Eeuauaughhhuauaahh

A friend sent this link to me. It's stupid funny. The longer you watch and listen to it, the funnier it seems.

Why you shouldn't talk on the cell phone in the bathroom...

I don't know where this originated. A friend sent it to me and it's funny as... well... shit. :)

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage.

But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jump start the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!"

This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 1 through 5 for your convenience:

1. Occupied.
2. Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one.
3. Poo on seat.
4. Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat.
5. No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet.
   

Clearly, it had to be Stall... 2. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful shitter. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot.

I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. Shitter was blathering to Mrs. Shitter about the shitty day he had.

I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier.

Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently.

Once my ass cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became
apparent:

1. The next-door conversation had ceased;
2. my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and
3. the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench.
   

It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence.

"Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??"

Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride.

Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching.

Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's ass at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet.

There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth.

As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know.

I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate.

I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the bathroom.

And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom.

My Fine Is... $420.50

I found this one on the net.

Your life acts can cost you. How much are you fined? Tally up your fines for each of these acts.

1. Smoked pot -- $10
2. Did acid -- $5
3. Ever had sex at church -- $25
4. Woke up in the morning and did not know the person who was next to you -- $40
5. Had sex with someone on MySpace -- $25
6. Had sex for money -- $100
7. Ever had sex with the a Puerto Rican -- $20
8. Vandalized something -- $20
9. Had sex on your parents' bed -- $10
10. Beat up someone -- $20
11. Been jumped -- $10
12. Crossed dressed -- $10
13. Given money to stripper -- $25
14. Been in love with a stripper -- $20
15. Kissed some one who's name you didn't know -- $0.10
16. Hit on some one of the same sex while at work -- $15
17. Ever drive drunk -- $20
18. Ever got drunk at work/school, or went to work while still drunk -- $50
19. Used toys while having sex -- $30
20. Got drunk, passed out and don't remember the night before -- $20
21. Went skinny dipping -- $5
22. Had sex in a pool -- $20
23. Kissed someone of the same sex -- $10
24. Had sex with someone of the same sex -- $20
25. Cheated on your significant other -- $10
26. Masturbated -- $10
27. Cheated on your significant other with their relative or close friend -- $20
28. Done oral -- $5
29. Got oral -- $5
30. Done / got oral in a car while it was moving -- $25
31. Stole something -- $10
32. Had sex with someone in jail -- $25
33. Made a nasty home video -- $15
34. Had a threesome -- $50
35. Had sex in the wild -- $20
36. Been in the same room while someone was having sex -- $25
37. Stole something worth over more than a hundred dollars -- $20
38. Had sex with someone 10 years older -- $20
39. Had sex with someone under 21 and you are over 27 -- $25
40. Been in love with two people or more at the same time -- $50
41. Said you love someone but didn't mean it -- $25
42. Went streaking -- $5
43. Went streaking in broad daylight -- $15.50
44. Been arrested -- $5
45. Spent time in jail -- $15
46. Peed in the pool -- $0.50
47. Played spin the bottle -- $5
48. Done something you regret -- $20
49. Had sex with your best friend -- $20
50. Had sex with someone you work with at work -- $25
51. Had anal sex -- $80
52. Lied to your mate -- $5
53. Lied to your mate about the sex being good -- $25

Tally it up and Title it..."My Fine Is..."

One interesting thing to note is that there are only 3 acts on the list that have cent values, leaving two possibly combinations that will give you with a 60 cent value on your total.

"Phys Ed"

I must be getting old.

While my kids were getting ready for school, my wife reminded them to not forget their gym clothes for school. My 11 year-old son replied, "I don't need them. I have Health, remember?" Then he went downstairs.

I walked into the bedroom and looked at my wife.

"Health?", I asked.

"Yeh," she replied, "Phys Ed."

Now, when I was in school, Phys Ed was "gym". Running around. Sports. Stuff like that.

So I said, "Hmm.. wouldn't it make more sense to teach them about Phys Ed before they the physical part?"

She smiled at me and said, "No... 'PHYS ED'."

Then it hit me.

Sex Ed.

Why the hell do they call it HEALTH or PHYS ED? We called that SEX ED when I was in school. because that's what it was about. Sex.

Then it hit me again.

He's only 11 years-old!

Good god. Is it THAT time already?

I'm not ready for this shit.

Peyton Manning SNL Skit - *UPDATED*

I was watching SNL last night and this skit came on. SNL hasn't had anything this funny in a long time.



NEW LINK -- quick before YouTube pulls it down!

Clark, The Canadian Hockey Goalie

This is some pretty funny shit. Perhaps more so if you're Canadian. I dunno.

40 Things You'd Love to Say Out Loud at Work

I didn't make this list. Someone sent it to me. I could have used a couple of these today. :)

1. I can see your point, but I still think you're full of it.
2. I don't know what your problem is, but I'll bet it's hard to pronounce.
3. How about never? Is never good for you?
4. I see you've set aside this special time to publicly humiliate yourself.
5. I'm really easy to get along with once you people learn to see it my way.
6. Who lit your fuse.
7. I'm out of my mind at the moment, but feel free to leave a message.
8. I don't work here - I'm a consultant.
9. It sounds like English, but I don't understand a damn word you're saying.
10. Ahhh. I see the screw-up fairy has visited us again.
11. I like you. You remind me of myself when I was young and stupid.
12. You are validating my inherent mistrust of strangers.
13. I have plenty of talent and vision - I just don't give a damn.
14. I'm already visualizing the duct tape over your mouth.
15. I will always cherish the initial misconceptions I had about you.
16. Thank you. We're all refreshed and challenged by your unique point of view.
17. The fact that no one understands you doesn't mean you're an artist.
18. Any connection between your reality and mine is purely coincidental.
19. What am I? Flypaper for freaks?
20. I'm not being rude. You're just insignificant.
21. It's a thankless job, but I've got a lot of karma to burn
22. Yes, I am an agent of Satan, but my duties are largely ceremonial.
23. And your cry-baby whiny butt opinion would be?
24. Do I look like a fucking people person to you?
25. This isn't an office. It's Hell with fluorescent lighting.
26. I started out with nothing and I still have most of it left
27. Sarcasm is just one more service we offer.
28. If I throw a stick, will you leave?
29. Errors have been made. Others will be blamed.
30. Whatever kind of look you were going for, you missed.
31. Oh, I get it. Like humor. Only different.
32. A cubicle is just a padded cell without the door.
33. Can I trade this job for what's behind door number 1?
34. Too many freaks, not enough circuses.
35. Nice perfume, but must you marinate in it?
36. Chaos, panic and disorder - my work here is finally done.
37. How do I set a laser printer to k!ll.
38. I thought I wanted a career; turns out I just wanted a salary
39. I'll try being nicer if you try being smarter.
40. Wait a minute - I'm just trying to imagine you with a personality

Valentine's are fucked!

At least that's what little Jerry Masterson says. Click the picture on the right.

Yeh, beyond a doubt it's fake, but still funny nonetheless. :)

I never did quite understand why kids nowadays have to give Valentines to ALL the kids in their class, if they're giving any out at all. We never did that in school. Sure, some kids got more than others, but that's life.

I was never one of the kids who got the most. Actually, I was probably one of the kids who got the least. I still turned out OK. At least I think so.

Although, I do recall giving some to guys. My friends. I'm not gay either. What the hell was I thinking?

Anyway, my point is... kids should not be forced to give Valentine's Day cards to every kid in their class. It kinda takes away from the meaning of Valentine's Day. Know what I mean?

Blame global warming?

Hello?

Do you think that, perhaps, the marijuana might have had something to do with it?

Man accused of riding nude on ski lift; also charged with marijuana possession

If Peter Griffin had a sex change

A friend sent me this picture. If you're familiar with the TV show, Family Guy, then you'll get this. Even if you're not, it might make you says "WTF?". Click the pic on the right for a bigger view.

Seriously, is that a guy or a girl?

Don't you hate it when...

... you launch your web browser to go to some web site and then can't remember where you wanted to go?

Ice skating memories

Late this afternoon, a few co-workers and I had a chat about ice skating. At some point, someone brought up the topic of ice skating and that triggered a couple of very funny memories of two incidents I had when I was younger. I had to share it with them.

The first was when I must have been about 10 years old or so in the mid 70's. My class at school was going ice skating at an indoor hockey arena in our town. I think I had only been ice skating once or twice before that.

Anyway, we got to the arena. I laced up and made my way down to the rink, and stepped onto the ice.

Instantly, my ass met the cold ice surface. I grabbed the boards and pulled myself up, pushed off, and took a few strides.

Once again. Down I went.

Remember, I was a noob skater.

I continued like this, all the way around the entire rink.

A teenager, who must have been watching me struggle, skated up to me and said, "You know, it's easier if you take your skate guards off."

Oops.

The second incident was in the late 80's. Rather than sit in my friend's basement, drinking, listening to music and shooting the shit -- which is what my friends and I usually did every weekend -- someone decided that we should all go skating for a change. Since Winterlude was in full swing, it seemed like a cool idea.

We grabbed our skates and bussed it downtown. The canal was pretty busy. We went to one of the change huts, put on our skates and took off down the canal.

We didn't make it very far. I hit a crack in the ice and wiped out. No big deal. I stood up, took a few strides and wiped out again. The first thing that came to mind was "WTF? Are my skates that dull?" I had my skate guards in my hand, so I knew that wasn't the problem. :)

I persisted, but something didn't feel right. The lighting was poor, so it was a little difficult to actually see my skates. I stumbled over to the edge of the canal and had a look at them. Just as I was checking the blade on my right skate, one of my friends came flying up on his skates laughing and said "Hey check this out -- someone lost a skate blade!"

Yep. It was mine.

I had those all-plastic Micron skates, and the plastic supports that held the blade on had totally cracked, and the blade came off. In fact, the remaining plastic was crumbling between my fingers. And it wasn't even that cold! I guess over the years, the plastic just got weaker or something. Piece of shit.

Needless to say, our skating excursion was over. They tried to convince me to rent skates, but I was bummed out and pissed off. I wanted to go home and drink, listen to music, and shoot the shit. :)