Writer's block is no excuse

When I'm late for work, I know I shouldn't be typing these damn away messages. If my boss were to ask, 'Hey, why'd you get here so late?' I couldn't say 'writer's block.' That's stupid.

I'd be better off faking an injury. Like right before I go into work I punch myself in the arm a lot, then tell my boss, 'hey, some guy punched me in the arm while I walked to work and I was too tired to shoo him away. You ok with that?'

Then he'd say 'Did you just punch yourself in the arm a lot?' I'd say 'yeah,' and then he'd punch me in the arm to teach me a lesson.

(work.)

I guess the lesson would be "your boss is kind of a dick sometimes."

Water Plus One

Right now making dinner involves adding water to something, then eating it. But as soon as a meal involves more than two ingredients, no sir, I cannot make it.

(water+1.)

I'll be living with my girlfriend next year. Let's hope she likes soup, rice, and Kool-Aid, 'cause that's all I've got.

Okay, I've been lying. I'm able also to add butter and milk to things, too. On adventurous nights, I use my Foreman Grill, but beyond that, I'm restricted to microwaveables and fresh fruit.

My mouse is like a dog that clicks

Sometimes I'll think about how my desk is like a kingdom and I am king. My chair from Office Max is my throne, and the keys on my keyboard are peasants who must do my will when I command them.

And...uh... my mouse is like a dog... that clicks.

Yeah.

(work.)

I'm not sure how it would work, but the idea of a clicking dog is endearing, even if it means that the dog is very ill.

"What's that clicking sound?"
"My dog."
"What's the deal with that?"
"Gear's loose or something. I don't know, I'm not a veterinarian. Or a mechanic."

Public access television and body mutilation

A couple nights ago I went with a couple of friends to meet a guy who wanted to start up a TV show in town. The guy had a show in East Lansing, but now that he lives in Ann Arbor, he wants to do a similar show.

To show us what to expect, he showed us clips from his old show, including:

• Some guys wearing wigs and talking in front of a green screen (fine, that's kinda weird, but yeah)
• A man in a dress singing a song about... I forgot (I'll keep an open mind. Sure, this is...ok)
• A man getting his scrotum sewn, then eating glass, then washing it down with urine and being maced (WHAT?!)

So if I decide to work on this show, do any of you feel like crudely injuring your genitals, throat, digestive tract, and eyes?

C'mon, be a pal.

(work.)

If everything goes smoothly, I'll be taping people mutilating their bodies by early February. Stay tuned!

What "It's Complicated" really means

I think having the option of putting 'It's Complicated' as your relationship status on Facebook is a clever idea. As a general status, it can effectively broadcast to the internet that you may not be ready to meet new people.

However, unless you're using it ironically, I don't understand why you'd put 'It's Complicated with (actual person with which it is complicated).' Isn't that saying, 'HEY INTERNET, MY RELATIONSHIP IS HAVING PROBLEMS'? Why share that?

While we're on the subject of Facebook letting people share too much, you should also have to put down why you broke up with somebody. 'Mary broke up with Pete because he ass banged her best friend.' or 'Derek broke up with Sarah because she farted in bed.' People need questions answered, and they should be answered honestly and awkwardly.

And I think Facebook should talk about ass banging more.

(nap.)

If you want the internet to know that your personal life is having problems but you don't want to show it through Facebook, you can always go with something just as good:

Sad lyrics in your away message!

Here are some tips:

1. Try to find a song that talks about the way things used to be.
2. Find lyrics that rhyme "heart" with "torn apart" if at all possible, and
3. for the love of Christ, italicize your font and put it on a colored background.
4. Lastly, delude yourself into thinking that nobody will notice how openly sad you are. Think other people will think "That person is just listening to music" and ignore the fact that all evidence should make them think "That person is having an emotional breakdown in addition to really bad taste in music."

If you follow those simple steps, soon all your friends will know how sad you are and maybe they'll all tell you how great you are. Or stop calling. Not my problem, really.

Good luck!

Japanese poetry and diarrhea

Today's away message haiku is:

Everything you do
Is much less enjoyable
With diarrhea.

(shower, grocery, meeting.)

I was going to put "Argue with that. I dare you," but then I started thinking about all the ways diarrhea could make my day better. Then I stopped thinking about that and decided I don't want to get into this debate with anybody.

But seriously, if you think of something, let me know.

Thanksgiving time-lapse movie

How was my Thanksgiving, you ask?



I remember it happening very quickly.

Video courtesy of Dad.

(Saturday.)

If you're looking for me in the video, I'm the guy toward the middle of the frame sitting next to a lady (girlfriend Amy) and a younger dude (cousin Andy). This video showed me that I look goonish even in fast forward.

My buddy Ryan was kind enough to point out that shortly after the video was posted, the Youtube recommendations were:

1. Hobbit reversed wind technique
2. EAT SHIT MOTHERFUCKER! (sadly, this video isn't up anymore, but I'm sure it was charming)
   
3. cat running into a wall

Last year's Thanksgiving memory: chest hair

My fondest memory from last Thanksgiving is the time my aunt's date spilled something on his shirt, so rather than borrow a shirt, he just took it off and wore only his suit coat.

I wasn't there when the spill happened, so I saw him walk by and I thought, 'Wow, ballsy move wearing a bright pink and red sweater to Thanksgiving.' Then I took a second look and saw the truth:

I'd just seen the red hair on his very pink chest.

He hung out with his pink chest exposed for a few hours like there was nothing wrong with showing off your fluorescent Irish bosom to a bunch of strangers eating dinner. So that's my Thanksgiving memory.

Hope everyone has an awesome Thanksgiving this year.

Keep your shirts on,
Henry

(Turkey.)

For some reason that guy wasn't invited back. Strange.

Stay out of my apartment, blind burglars

Because a large amount of the student population of Ann Arbor is going to be out of town this weekend for Thanksgiving, I realize that this is a great time to get robbed. As I hang out in my apartment alone, I know that at any moment the door may creak open or a window may shatter and I will have to run to the kitchen, grab a large knife and stab somebody.

So while everybody's out enjoying a bar night tonight, I'm relaxing here, waiting for my girlfriend to get into town, knowing full well that I may have to shove a steak knife into a burglar's chest at the drop of a hat (a hat that apparently tells me when to stab people).

Now that I think about it, though, my lights are on, so I probably won't get burgled unless the burglar is blind and unable to sense differences in light.

Basically what I'm saying is that I may have to stab a blind man tonight. It's not pretty (or likely), but it's something I'm willing to accept.

(chillaxin'.)

I'll be ready. I've been beating up on blind people for weeks now. Ya know, for practice.

Sleeping while dreaming while sleeping

Last night I had a dream that I was really tired. If there's a dream that makes you feel like a silly ass when you wake up, that's it.

In my dream, I'm walking around my old elementary school's playground and I think, 'Man, I'm feeling really fatigued. I sure could use a nap. I guess I'll just lay down in this pile of moon rocks next to Sonic the Hedgehog. Wait a minute... ah, crap.'

Then I woke up and wanted to go back to bed but didn't, because I'd probably just have another dream where I'm tired and want to go back to bed.

(work.)

If you fall asleep while you're already dreaming, you enter a special dream world where you can visit the dreams of all members of mankind, living and dead. However, if you fall asleep in that dream world, you wet the bed.

Don't ask me why. I don't make these rules.

UM vs. OSU showdown at summer camp

I think today's big game is a lot like when the poor kids with no money but lots of spirit have a race with the rich kids from across the lake on the last day of summer camp.

Michigan's got a consistently good football team and an excellent hospital, business school, and college of engineering, whereas Ohio State has the football team Sure, they win at football every year, but this is really all they have. Like the poor kids at summer camp, even if they win, it's just one victory. If Michigan loses, we're still better off in general, so stop freaking out about the damn game, everyone.

Also, Ohio State fans are generally assholes, so it's like the poor kids at summer camp are all cocks, too, so to hell with them and the dirt on their faces.

(food.)

Some friends of mine went down to Ohio State for the game. One of their friends, a woman in her early 20s of average height, got punched in the stomach on her way back from the bathroom at OSU's stadium. Then the woman-puncher took her cell phone and threw it into the street, where it was promptly run over. Shit, I guess OSU's football team really is better than Michigan's.

I mean, I've never punched a woman in the stomach, but then again, I'm not really that into sports.

UPDATE FROM THE FUTURE: Some googling brought me to this blog post, which supports what I've heard. Looks like Cedar Point is still the only good thing in Ohio.

Serious Christmas cards

Amy got some Christmas cards featuring a kid with his tongue frozen to a flagpole on the front, then on the inside it says 'Hathy Holidayth.'

I thought that was nice, but then she said she was getting more serious cards for other people.

'Why? For old people who don't laugh or what?'
'No, just more serious holiday cards.'

Holiday cards...that are serious? How serious do you have to be around the holidays?

I took Amy's idea to the X-Treme and suggested she get Christmas cards with a picture of a reindeer on the front, then on the inside it says 'Remember the Holocaust.'

No way is she finding cards more serious than that. I shall dominate the Serious Christmas Card market.

(work.)

If you're afraid of people not taking you seriously on Christmas, you could always give them a card that's blank on the front, then when they open it up, it's the Pythagorean Theorum!

Math is no laughing matter.

Thank God she was ugly

When I was in 8th grade, I had one of those middle school relationships. Ya know, there's a girl that you call a lot and you both have crushes on each other and sometimes, when things get hot and heavy, you hold hands and walk around the mall.

Well, I didn't see her in person all that much 'cause she lived a couple towns over, but when I did I kinda thought, 'ugh, she's not too good lookin'.' That soon led to 'Oh crap, does this mean I'm gay?'

Then a year later I got a different girlfriend, and we made out a lot, and I thought 'Whew, I guess the first one was just ugly. Thank God.'

(work.)

First Girlfriend, if you're reading this, I'm sure you were just going through an ugly duckling phase and now you've matured into a beautiful swan, your lovely brown eyes matched only by your long white neck and bright orange beak.

Triple decker Birdseye and hatred for binding

Back when I worked at the bindery, I had trouble communicating with my boss. He'd try to shoot the shit with me, but I'm pretty sure he was just doing that so I didn't go home and hang myself after working in his shitty bindery every day of the summer.

For lunch, I'd pack myself sandwiches that had two layers to them. Bread, meat, bread, meat, bread. These sandwiches were probably the most exciting part of my day, which says more about the bindery than it does my sandwiches.

One day my boss walked by and saw the three pieces of bread and said, 'WOW! Triple decker Birdseye!' I smiled, then said, 'Well, it's not really a triple decker sandwich. There are three pieces of bread, but that just means there are two layers to it, which makes it a double decker sandwich. However, I get what you're saying.'' He'd stopped listening before I even opened my mouth, which meant that he had just made me some asshole talking about his sandwich on his lunch break.

Man, I hated that bindery.

(out.)

When I think about my favorite bindery experiences from the two months I worked there, I can come up with two. The first is the time a coworker made me this awesome macaroni and cheese on my birthday. The second is the time I took this huge dump at work and I got to stop putting art catalogs in boxes for like ten minutes.

Those are pretty much the fondest memories I have of the bindery. Eating and pooping.

Going to the bathroom at work was a treat because it was easily the most stimulating activity at the bindery. My two favorite bindery experiences could have been combined into one amazing day at work if the macaroni and cheese gave me the really bad diarrhea I so desired. I would have eaten lunch, punched in, then sat in the bathroom with my glorious, glorious indigestion at 8 dollars an hour.

Broom closet humor

I thought of this on my way into my apartment. I think it'd be a good garnish for a bit on this particular janitor, but on its own, it's kinda stupid.

The gay janitor came out of the broom closet.

See? That's like a chef giving you a bit of parsley for dinner. Only I'm not a chef, unless you count the chef's hat I'm always wearing.

(food.)

You can tell that when I'm typing an away message that'll only be up for a short amount of time, my standards go way down.

I bet there have been all sorts of broom closet jokes throughout history. They've gone crossed roads, knock-knocked on doors, and yes, I bet gay janitors have come out of them before, too.

Alternative smear campaigns and babies with mustaches

Now that the midterm election is over, I'm going to miss all those smear commercials.

'Jennifer Granholm hates jobs so much she burned down a factory that makes blankets for cold orphans. She also hates orphans. And blankets.' (camera zooms in on a blanket and fades to a photo of Granholm looking angry)

or

'Dick DeVos loves migrant workers so much he forced his own family to grow mustaches and speak Spanish. And he has a baby.' (camera zooms in on a baby with a mustache taped to its face)

I think the smear commercials that aired during prime time could have been more effective. Voters need to feel like the candidates don't care about the same things as them for the smear commercials to work.

'Jennifer Granholm hates Grey's Anatomy.'

'Dick DeVos can't really get into Lost.'

Voters will think 'What do you mean, he can't get into Lost?! Did he at least start with the first season?! Screw that guy, I'm voting for the Democrats.'

(bed.)

All politics aside, if one candidate liked Arrested Development and the other liked Everybody Loves Raymond, I'd vote for the Arrested Development candidate even if that meant all my tax dollars would go toward cocaine that would later be snorted off a little boy's butt.

Errr...I take that back. I pick my candidates like I pick my women: I vote for the candidate with the biggest titties. You're my girl, Granholm.

Voting and sodomy

I expect all of you to Rock the Vote, just don't tell anybody for whom you're voting because that's really inappropriate.

This lady I used to work with at the bindery once got mad when I told her my preferred candidate in the 2004 election. She got offended and said, 'The two things you aren't supposed to talk about are politics and religion.' However, weeks earlier she had told me what it's like to have anal sex.

'It's just like when you're pooping. If something's in your butt, you want to get it out. That's what anal sex feels like.'

I learned that if you mention who you're voting for, that's uncalled for, but if you tell your coworker what it's like to have a butt full of dong, that's A-OK.

So rather than asking all of you your preferred candidates, I'm going to ask you this:

What's sodomy like?

Happy voting!

(home.)

A coffee can full of hypodermic needles

Please stop clicking this message when it is sent to you:
you think I should put this picture On Myspace? http://img683.imageshack.us/my.php?image=picture57.jpg, I think my eyes look weird. do I look cross eyed in that pic to you? lol'

Clearly, it's a virus. It causes someone to begin a conversation with 'hey click this' instead of something like, say, 'hi.' If someone IMs you with that, tell them to go to jayloden.com and download Aimfix after they eat a dick for being so stupid.

Can you imagine if there were viruses in real life that got you to randomly convince strangers to infect themselves? You'd walk up to people you haven't talked to in years and say stuff like, 'HEY! Put your hand in this coffee can. There might be money inside!' when really the coffee can is full of hypodermic needles.

(Ratchet and Clank 3.)

When you're designing a virus that tricks a large amount of people into downloading infected files, you want to use a language they understand. In this case, it's the language of "OMG look at this pic on Myspace LOL." Not to help virus authors, but why not disguise a virus as a YouTube link? YouTube is generally linked to more than Myspace, plus I think the Myspace crowd already has enough problems with computers.

In case you don't know them, The Problems Myspace Users have are:

• not knowing how to not get raped by strangers over the internet
  
• setting bikini babes as tiled background images
• liking shitty music, then forcing everybody who visits a page to listen to it

Am I missing any?