Thursday, September 20, 2007

The Rapist Saturation of MySpace

Are other people receiving friend requests from total strangers on Facebook or am I the only one?

I thought Facebook was above this. If you wanted to be internet friends with weirdos and rapists, you go to MySpace. That's just what it's for. Sometimes rapists on MySpace accidentally try to meet up and rape each other. It's crazy, the rapist saturation of MySpace.

But Facebook - Facebook was how you connected with friends from class or old school buddies, not a means to be cyber-pals with some random fucking high school kid who shoots friend requests all willy nilly like a goddamn... high school... kid.



On Facebook, I'm Henry Birdseye, 23-year-old graduate student. On MySpace, I'm Slippery H, 69-year-old (lolz) African American pro skateboarder.

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Sunday, August 12, 2007

Hot dog disagreement (I'm moving to Chicago)

I move to Chicago on Wednesday. I'll share contact information once I'm settled.

I hear a lot of, 'So...Chicago, huh? You like those Chicago hot dogs?' Normally when people are making casual conversation with you you need to agree with them or disagree in a funny way, but so far all I've thought of is, 'No, I don't like Chicago hot dogs.' Then both of us will just stand there in hot dog disagreement. We might talk about hot dogs a little more, or one of us will walk away. Either way, I fucked up my end of the Chicago hot dog discussion.

My neighbor Dave took a unique approach to casual conversation when he heard about my move. 'Chicago, huh? That city fucking sucks. I hate it.'

What do I say to that?

'Yes, friendly neighbor, my future home is in a shitty place, and I moved there because I suck. It was nice talking with you, now I'm going to go into the garage and eat a bag of horse turds because I make bad decisions.'


I spent a couple minutes thinking about whether it'd be funnier if I was eating a bag of regular turds or eating a bag of horse turds. I eventually settled on horse turds because I decided that someone going out and actively looking for horse turds to put in a bag and bring home was funnier than someone just collecting turds they had lying around the house.

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Friday, May 04, 2007

A letter from the man sleeping on the floor

Dear Other People in the Computer Lab,

I'm feeling a bit tired, so I think I'm going to sleep on the floor. Someone told me the carpet here smells like blueberries, so I'm going to lie with my mouth as close to the floor as possible. I'll also be sure to point my feet inward, but rest assured, that's just because I'm weird.

This guy


So it turns out that this guy just felt a little sick and decided to lie down. Why he chose such an awkward position is still a mystery, but after my boss politely told him not to sleep in the site, he complied and everything was fine.

My main concern was that this guy was dead and that I'd just inadvertently photographed a corpse. I'd never been so relieved to find out someone was just sleeping face down on dirty carpet.

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Thursday, May 03, 2007

You don't want to be an astronaut

Every time a child tells me he wants to be an astronaut when he grows up, I call him an idiot who should shut his stupid liar mouth.

You don't want to be an astronaut. An astronaut trains for months and then when he gets to space he doesn't even meet any aliens. He just sits in a space ship in the cold, dark void of space while people on earth go skateboarding and eat pizza. You want to be an astronaut, kid? You're retarded.

An astronaut has to eat food out a tube and go to the bathroom inside of his space suit. If you want to eat everything as a paste and then crap inside your own space pants, be my guest, but you don't want to be an astronaut. Your dreams are stupid and so is your stupid child face.

And that's why Daddy hits you.


Here's a response I received from a stranger on AIM:
"so wtf dont discouarge them let them be an astronaut how do u kno they wont be one ur a idiot for tellin them that"

I guess I can't argue with that, but only because it's hard to read.

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Wednesday, May 02, 2007

Clandestine mannequin coitus

When I was in 6th grade, a classmate used the word 'dildo.' When I asked him what it meant and he told me that a dildo was a mannequin's penis. Hmmm.

I thought about how I'd never been in a department store, seen a mannequin with a huge bulge in the pants he was modeling and thought, 'Wow, that mannequin sure has a huge penis.' If women were buying mannequin penises, did women secretly want to have sex with mannequins? Were women all over the world engaging in clandestine mannequin coitus? My world was crashing down.

Then I came to the conclusion that when the mannequin factory workers (mannequin-gineers?) make the mannequin, it has all its body parts, then before it leaves the mannequin factory the factory workers take its penis and put it in a bin with all the other mannequin penises so that ladies can buy them at the store later.

This is how dildos are made, or so I thought in 6th grade.


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Friday, April 20, 2007

My roommate is short and I am mean

Yesterday my kinda short roommate Katz was showing me the robe he'll wear when he graduates with his master's degree.

Katz: 'Look what I got.' (holds up a bag from the book store) 'When are YOU graduating?'
Me: 'I graduated last year.'
Katz: 'Yeah, but did your robe look like THIS?' (holds up robe with a special red trim for graduate students)
Me: 'No, my robe was in an adult size.'
Katz: (the sound of scowling)

Now that I've typed this, I'm probably going to come home to a turd on my bed or, knowing the extent of Katz's (tiny, Napoleonic) rage, I'll return to an entire sentence spelled out with turds, elaborately planned from weeks prior and painstakingly molded with love and rubber gloves.


Even if he were to spell something simple like "I hate you" he'd have to stockpile his poop for at least a couple of weeks. That's dedication.

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Tuesday, April 17, 2007

The time I wanted to throw a woman into traffic

Last night at the bar, my buddy Allen introduced me to a female friend of his, then he went to the bathroom or something. This left me alone with a stranger. Here's what happened:

Girl: 'One weekend I brought my 16 year old sister to a party on campus and some guy hit on her. I had to tell him she was 16 so he'd back off.'
Me: 'Yeah, it's awkward when someone's underage at a party. When you first get to college, you know everybody's legal so you don't have to worry about a girl's age 'cause they're all over 18. That's good to know.'
Girl (yelling loudly, in caps): 'HEY THIS GUY WANTS TO HAVE SEX WITH AN 18 YEAR OLD'

Had my stomach been filled with alcohol, or "swearing fuel" as it's sometimes known, I would have yelled back something like, 'THIS GIRL HAS ABORTIONS FOR FUN' but I was sober so instead I just hated her silently.

That bitch.


Whenever I meet somebody new I should immediately think of something terrible to yell about them just in case something like this ever happens again.

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