Don't forget – today is your last day to buy raffle tickets to win a T-shirt or a free ticket to Orlando! Go to http://www.avitable.com/neverwas for more details and to buy your last-minute tickets.
Archive for September, 2008
Ah, Saturday
Saturday, September 20th, 2008A video to distract you from the miscellany
Thursday, September 18th, 2008Okay, now while you're distracted . . .
- Go wish Karl a happy birthday. He's old!
- There are only three more days left to buy raffle tickets, so if you've been waiting to the last minute, now is the time. I'll be picking three winners who will win T-shirts and a grand-prize winner who will win a round-trip plane ticket to Orlando for the Halloween party! Go to http://www.avitable.com/neverwas/ to buy your tickets, find out about sharing hotel rooms, RSVP for the party, and get all of the details.
- The limited edition Davetoon Halloween T-shirt will only be on sale for a few weeks more before it will be removed forever! Don't lose your chance to get one today – click here now!
- I've tallied the votes, and it looks like "chickpee" is the winner by a huge margin. Congratulations to Valerie, who wins her choice of a T-shirt from my Zazzle gallery. Email me to let me know your preference, and nice job!
- Finally, thanks to everyone who listened last night to "Clearly, You're Retarded." We talked about how childless couples and couples encumbered with spawn have different perspectives, priorities, and focuses, and how it can be hard sometimes for them to be friends with each other. If you jog or mow the lawn or drive a lot, you should download the show or subscribe on iTunes and give it a listen. If you don't enjoy it, I'll give you your money back!
Where did you put your wallet?
Wednesday, September 17th, 2008Yesterday morning, as my wife was getting ready to leave for work, she realized that she couldn't find her wallet. Of course, this meant wasting a half hour frantically tearing the house apart, searching in both logical and illogical places where her wallet might be.
I think it's funny how we justify why we're looking where we're looking. It starts out rationally:
The laundry basket: Well, maybe she went into the bedroom to change into something other than work clothes and just put everything in the hamper and her wallet was in her hand and she put it in there, too.
The floor of the car: We went out to Subway and since I was in my underwear, she ran inside with her wallet in her hand. When she came back out, she had food in her hand, so maybe she put her wallet down on the floor to hold our drinks.
The trash: Did she accidentally throw her wallet out with the trash from Subway?
When the wallet has not been located in the typical places, you move onto the slightly more fantastical:
The fridge: When we got back from Subway, she went to get a glass of white wine and took it from the fridge. Maybe she put her wallet down in the fridge to grab the wine bottle.
The large plastic Tupperware trash can that contains the dog's food in the bedroom: When she went to feed the dog, maybe she still had her wallet in her hand, and accidentally dropped it in the food but then forgot about it because I called her name.
In the unmade bed: Did she flop on the bed to snuggle with and pet on Jigsaw for a little bit? Maybe it's just sitting there in the folds of the sheets.
When you can't find it after that, you tend to get a bit crazy:
The mailbox: Could she have gone out to the mailbox with her wallet in her hand after Subway, gotten the mail, but put her wallet in there because there was too much mail to carry?
The washer and dryer: Okay. Maybe she had her wallet in her hand. Then we went to Subway. Then she came home with the food and we ate dinner. Then, when she was cleaning up the trash, she spilled something on her shirt and went, wallet in hand, to put it in the washer and decided to do the laundry, and put the wallet in one of the machines.
Under the kitchen sink: Did she decide to clean the table with 409 after dinner and since she had her wallet in her hand from throwing the bag of Subway trash away, she just put it down to grab the sponge and cleaner and then forgot to get it?
In my pockets: Maybe she handed me her wallet and I stuck it in my pocket, although I don't remember any such thing happening?
Oh, the wallet's still missing? Now you just go fucking nuts:
The attic: Maybe after eating Subway, throwing away the trash, and cleaning the table, all with her wallet still in her hand, she heard a noise and decided to go up to the attic to see if we had a mouse, and then maybe she saw a mouse, shrieked, dropped the wallet up there, and then fled downstairs, but forgot to tell me, and didn't remember any of that the next morning.
Floating in the pool: She likes to walk around the pool when she's talking on her cell, so maybe after eating Subway, throwing away the trash, and cleaning the table, she started talking to her sister and walked around the pool with her wallet in hand. Then, she got another call, and when she were trying to answer the other line, her hand slipped, and the wallet fell down and landed in the pool but she didn't notice because she was busy talking on the phone.
In the trunk: After eating Subway, throwing away, and cleaning, the doorbell rang, and a homeless guy was asking for money. She said no, but he saw that she had her wallet in her hand, so he lunged for it. She killed him, threw him in the trunk, and drove him around to the lake and rolled him in for the gators to eat. When she went back to close the trunk, she put her wallet in there to wipe off her fingerprints from everything and then forgot and closed the trunk, then drove back home and came back in while I was watching TV.
In her purse: Clearly, what happened was that she took her wallet with her to Subway. She went in, ordered our food, and returned to the car, carrying the wallet, the bags of food, and the drinks, and we drove home, went inside and ate dinner. Her wallet was on the table, and then she picked it up, took it to the trash with her, then grabbed the 409, cleaned the table, wallet still in hand. Her sister called on the cell phone, so she went outside with the phone and wallet, still in her hand, and walked around the pool. Her conversation ended, and she came in, and put her wallet on the counter. Then a version of my wife from the future where time travel is possible showed up, grabbed her wallet, and took it back with future-her into the time-space continuum, where future-wife held onto it until just now, when future-wife came back to our time and slipped it in now-wife's purse. The same purse that now-wife swears she searched thirty minutes ago.
Why not record Project Runway tonight and listen to me and Britt instead? We'll be doing our radio show over on Talkshoe, and you're more than welcome to join us in the chat room from 9 PM to 10 PM EST. Britt and I will be having angry word sex as we argue over yet another topic.
Tonight's topic is Friendship, with a twist! Is it difficult for someone with kids to be friends with someone who doesn't have kids? How is the dynamic different? How many times will Britt call me fucking retarded within the span of sixty minutes? Tune in and find out!
You can listen live online at Talkshoe.com, or download the Talkshoe application and you can chat and even call in!
My . . .
Tuesday, September 16th, 2008I'm creating my own meme. Link back here if you decide to do it yourself:
My favorite age: 26
My best friend: Britt
My celebrity crush: Sarah Silverman. Or Avril Lavigne. Kristen Bell. Emma Watson. Natalie Portman.
My defining characteristic: Physically? My smile. Emotionally? My sense of humor.
My most evil moment: Dumping a girl in high school when she wouldn't give me a blowjob.
My favorite food: Birthday cake.
My grossest injury: Once I scraped the head of my penis.
My biggest hatred: Stupid people
My most illegal activity: When I was in high school and college, I stole quite a bit.
My need for justice: When I see idiot drivers who are making the road a danger, I have to teach them a lesson!
My most knowledgeable field: I tend to know a little about a lot, rather than focus in one specific field. Although I do study comedy and humor extensively.
My life's goal: Retire young and travel the world.
My mother's influence: She taught me dark humor, how to laugh at anything, and how to manipulate damn near anyone.
My nerdiest point: That was probably role-playing "Vampire: The Masquerade" in the Commerce School classrooms in college.
My oldest memory: I remember climbing out of my crib and figuring out how to put on the TV to watch Sesame Street. My mother says I was 2.
My perfect date: I'm a simple guy. My perfect date would be going to see a good movie, then going out for burgers and ice cream.
My unanswered question: If there is eternity, wouldn't it be horrible?
My random fact: I've never eaten a chicken wing.
My stupidest decision: I should have gone to Japan for a semester in college.
My favorite television show: Currently on air? 30 Rock. Of all time? Buffy the Vampire Slayer
My style of underwear: Boxer briefs. I wear them around like shorts.
My favorite vegetable: None. I guess I can handle iceberg lettuce if there is lots of dressing.
My weakest trait: I have very little restraint.
My X-men power: Healing ability. And adamantium claws.
My strongest yearning: To be loved by millions.
My moment of Zen: Driving fast at night with the windows down and music blasting.
Open for sex. MWMMTBBW.
Monday, September 15th, 2008To get to my neighborhood, you have to drive through the neighborhood that I like to call, with all degree of tact and class, the poor neighborhood. More carports than garages, grass replete with brown grass and long weeds instead of lush, green blades, cars parked in the yard, shifty characters, etc.
It's not that my neighborhood is some big fancy palatial neighborhood, either, but there is a noticeable difference when you cross the Iron Curtain, as I like to call the small dip in the road between neighborhoods. Our lawns all usually look pretty good and it just feels friendlier and nicer. And more expensive.
I digress.
Last night, I was driving through the poor neighborhood on the way to my house when I passed one of the houses that actually has a garage. Of course, they don't actually use it as a garage – that would be crazy! Why would they want to park one of the four or five hideous cars that they have in the garage? Instead, it looks like it's converted into a workout room slash den slash hangout slash romper room slash bedroom.
In the garageslash window, less than six feet from the street, is a neon "Open" sign. When lit, it bathes the street in a lovely red and blue glow reminiscent of the outside of a seedy hotel attracting hookers like moths.
The sign was turned on as I drove by, and I turned to look in as I passed. The solitary occupant of the garageslash was sitting on a workout bench, with his Neanderthalic brow furrowed, doing bicep curls.
In my head, I stopped to talk to him:
Me: Hi!
Idiot: Umm. . . hi.
Me: What are you open to?
Idiot: Huh?
Me: The sign – it says you're open.
Idiot: Oh.
Me: So what are you open to?
Idiot: What do you mean?
Me: I mean, are you open to larger men ejaculating on your chest? Fisting?
Idiot: What??!
Me: Or are you more open to someone stepping on your nuts and hitting you with a cane?
Idiot: What the fuck are you talking about?
Me: Well, it says that you're open. I just figured that since you are announcing your openness to the whole world via neon sign, you've got to be pretty damn open, right? Do you want me to pee in your mouth?
Idiot: That sign's not meant like that!
Me: Aww, c'mon, it's okay. You can tell me. I mean, it's not like you're just putting it there to show that you're home. The light in the garageslash would show that. Do you want me to put on some stockings and you can suck my toes?
Idiot: Get the fuck out of here!
Me: I can't leave yet – I just told my friends all about your "open" sign, and they're on the way here. They're a bunch of bikers who call themselves the Scat Brigade. I hope you're open to getting pooped on.
Idiot: This is just for my friends . . .
Me: That's clearly not the case – none of them have cell phones? You can just call them and say, like, "Hey Jimmy, I'm home. Come over." This sign has to be here as an indicator of your desire to participate in some of the filthiest sex acts known to man. Can I give you an enema?
Idiot: *sobs*
Me: It'll be fun! This place is going to give Sodom and Gomorrah a run for their money. I'll be right back – I have to run home and get my gimp suit.
And of course, by the time I returned, the garageslash door was closed, the open sign was gone from the window and the lights were off.
I have 9 raffle tickets left to sell in one week. Do you have $7 left in your Paypal account? I know you do. Don't be a bastard!
(If the button doesn't appear, click here.)
Descent into Lameness
Sunday, September 14th, 2008Here's your non-post for Sunday.
Just to show how far I've come in four years, here is my post from September 14, 2004, reprinted for your pleasure:
20 questions – this computer is awesome
It guessed a wolverine before any other animal, and I answered half the questions "Unknown". Pretty impressive. The funnier part is the Uncommon Knowledge (scroll down), like the wolverine may be used by a basketball player, probably could be placed on my head, and may be colorless.
20Q: "Play
Computer wins
Play Again
You were thinking of a wolverine.
Is it small? You said Probably, I say No.
Does it live in a burrow? You said Unknown, I say Yes.
Does it dig holes? You said Unknown, I say Yes.
Is it a type of cat? You said Unknown, I say No.
Does it purr? You said Unknown, I say No.
Does it have a long tail? You said Unknown, I say No.
Is it multicolored? You said No, I say Yes.
Contradictions Detected
It does not matter if our answers disagree, as over time the game will change its answers to reflect common knowledge. If you feel that the game is in error, the only way to fix it is to play again.
Similar Objects
a mountain lion, a bobcat, a jaguarundi (a wildcat from Central America), a mongoose, a porcupine, a marmot, a hyrax (African mammal), a werewolf, an anteater, a jackal, a lynx, a puma.
Uncommon Knowledge about a wolverine
Does it have striped fur? I say Yes.
Does it swim? I say Probably.
Does it break if dropped? I say Probably.
Would you like to be one? I say Yes.
Can you get information by using it? I say Probably.
Does it grunt? I say Yes.
Does it contain a liquid? I say Probably.
Can it be chewed? I say Yes.
Does it jump? I say No.
Does it smell bad? I say Yes.
Do you open and close it? I say Yes.
Does it eat fish? I say Yes.
Can it be placed on your head? I say Probably.
Does a basketball player use it? I say Yes.
Is it colorless? I say Probably.
Is it found in mines? I say Probably."
Will Smith is Captain America
Saturday, September 13th, 2008
I've been reading a lot of discussion in the comics world about a casting rumor for Marvel Films' new Captain America film. Allegedly, they're considering Will Smith in the role.
The comic geeks have their manties in a bunch, but I'm interested to hear what the non-comic audience thinks about this.
Just for background on Captain America, Steve Rogers was a skinny runt of a boy who wanted to join the military in the late 1940s. He was rejected for active duty but chosen for a Super Soldier experiment, which transformed him into an amazing physical specimen. As Captain America, the US symbol to rally the troops and scare the Nazis in World War II, he was supposedly KIA while trying to disable a rocket that had launched from Nazi Germany. In reality, he was knocked unconscious in very cold waters, where he remained frozen, in a state of suspension, until he was thawed out in modern times. Now he remains a symbol of the US but is a man completely out of sync with time. He has a nemesis named the Red Skull who is a German white supremacist and considers Captain America to be a race traitor.
Obviously, there would be a few logistical issues with Steve Rogers being black. He was a symbol to the United States in the 1940s, and it would be strange for that to be a black man, given the timeframe. Additionally, he wouldn't exactly be a race traitor according to his nemesis. On the other hand, Joe Louis was considered to be a symbol of America, too, and there were many black soldiers who fought and were recognized in WWII.
I think Will Smith could be an interesting choice, if he was Ali and Six Degrees of Separation and Pursuit of Happyness Will Smith, not Bad Boys and Hancock and Men in Black Will Smith.
But what do you think? Would it increase your chances of watching a Captain America movie, decrease them, or not affect them in any way?
I don't care about 9/11.
Thursday, September 11th, 2008This post is reprinted from 9/11/06, when it was entitled "It's just another fucking Monday."
I don't care about 9/11.
This doesn't mean that it wasn't a tragedy. It was. But I think that the approximately 3,000 US killed and 100,000 Iraqi deaths in the invasion and occupation of Iraq since then is a much larger tragedy. I think that the 230,000 people killed by the tsunami in the Indian Ocean is a much larger tragedy. But do a single one of you remember the date that happened? (It's December 26, 2004). I think it's a bigger tragedy when our own citizens commit murder against each other, whether it's through a terrorist act, a race-inspired crime, or just plain old homicide.
I'm not un-American. But I'm also aware that we're one country out of 243. And the tragedies that befall people in the at least 220 out of those 243 on a daily basis make 9/11 look like nothing.
Additionally, I hate what America has become since 9/11. "Nine Eleven" has become an excuse for racism, discrimination, stripping our civil liberties, and has caused more hatred for Americans and the US than existed prior to the attacks. George Bush, who has blundered and stumbled through the presidency, has started events that affect us all in the name of "fighting terrorism". Have we seen any good effect from this? No. Will we ever? I seriously doubt it.
When I think of 9/11, I don't think of the people who died on that day. I think of all the negative things that have happened since then. I think of TSA scrambling to make flying a bigger hassle without providing any additional sense of security or faith in their ability to prevent a damned thing. I think of the President listening to the conversations of millions of Americans. I think of a conservative shift of this nation that alienates significant percentages of our population. I think about moving to Canada.
I don't get weepy on 9/11. I don't feel a twinge in my heart when I think about the towers coming down. I can watch the two films capitalizing on the attacks without getting the slightest bit emotional. I have never once felt teary or upset or the slightest bit concerned about what happened. I'm not happy that this happened, either – don't misread my intentions as joy about the attacks. They were despicable acts, but they happened, and we reacted poorly and rashly, without thoughts to the consequences.
If you had a friend whose wife died in a senseless car accident caused by a drunk driver, how would you suggest that person cope? Would you suggest that they start killing every drunk driver, every person who is drinking and might possibly be driving, and every bar for selling alcohol? Would you want them to hold vigils every year where she died and keep their lives stagnant, mourning forever? Or would you want them to have a grieving period and move on? Enjoy the fact that they are alive and healthy and live their lives to the fullest?
Most people in the US are sheep. Stupid, aimless sheep who need someone to lead them. These are the types of people who need laughtracks to know when something is funny, who forward emails that say Target is a French company who hates Americans or that Obama is a radical Muslim who's going to make us into a socialist country, who hop on bandwagons as fast as the media can feed them reasons to get frenzied about something, whether it's Myspace or video games or obscenity or abortion. 9/11 is something for sheep to follow, and I think that people who sit down and actually think about it – really stop following the hype and hysteria and rhetoric – will realize that our goal should be prevention of another 9/11 in the future. Not through warmongering and oil chasing. Not through spying on our own country. Not through quasi-fascist govermental actions, far right religious pundits, far left liberal political correctness, or blind ignorance. But through understanding, acceptance of all religions, orientations, races, and cultures, and embracing the idea that the US cannot and should not capitalize on a tragedy and shit on the Constitution and Bill of Rights.
In conclusion:
Fuck 9/11. Fuck the president. Fuck the senseless deaths from the war on Iraq. And fuck you.
