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July 31, 2006

Daily Splatter: "I'm Lovin' It"

IHOP is promoting funnel cakes as a new breakfast food.  Funnel cakes - the greasy fried dough concoction with powdered sugar that is usually found at local fairs and carnivals (like hepatitis, transvestites and shattered dreams). 

In a time when McDonald's is offering salads, trans-fat product labeling is the norm and health-conscious menus are all the rage, IHOP drops its pants to display a pair of giant, sugar-coated balls.  Not only are they offering one of the most criminally unhealthy foods ever invented as a breakfast alternative, they are covering it with fruit syrup and whipped cream.  This is the kind of thing you eat when you want diabetes but can't be bothered spending years abusing your body in order to get it.

You can also get it with a scoop of ice cream.  This is why IHOP is my religion.

 

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 10:09 AM | | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

July 27, 2006

Daily Splatter: Last Call

That's it, baby.  The bar exam is over and Nerdy Squirrel, Esq. feels confident.  No more law school meltdowns, freak-outs or bouts of self-loathing.   More importantly, after three and a half years, my stretch of indentured servitude is over.  Finished. Ka-put.  So long, motherfucker, don't let the door hit you in the ass!

When N.S. decided to go to law school, I made a deal with her at that time that I would take care of nearly everything so that she could focus on her studies.  I have been a maid, handyman, cabana boy, financial analyst and therapist.  Now I get to be something I've always dreamed of being - a burden.


 

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 10:14 AM | | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

July 26, 2006

News To Me: Giving The Finger

In its endless quest to publicly torture citizens, New York Department of Transportation recently revealed that it had deactivated the vast majority of pedestrian 'WALK" "DON'T WALK" buttons in New York City over 30 years ago while leaving the instructions to use the buttons in tact. 

When asked why the instructions were never removed, one DOT official simply stated that making people stand and wait is what the department does best.

"No one can argue that the DOT is the one government agency that excels at making people wait," said the official.  "We do it better and longer than any other department, especially those pussies over at Health and Human Services." The official pointed into the camera, "I'm talking to you, Doug!"

Though originally designed to alert the traffic signal that pedestrians were waiting, the traffic light system was systematically integrated into a citywide computer system that coordinates the flow of traffic in the 1980's.  As a result of this coordination, today it is hard to imagine a time when traffic tie-ups and honking horns engulfed the city's streets.

While deactivating the buttons is not inherently problematic, the remaining instructions have advised people to continue using the impotent mechanisms for over 30 years.  Reactions from pedestrians varied.

"I knew it! I'm so stupid!" one man said, punching himself in the head and walking away.  "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" 

The DOT official insisted that the buttons still served some public purposes, including metatarsal exercise and the effective distribution of human fecal matter.  Asked if the Department of Infectious Disease Control approved of this use, the official leaned in and whispered "Don't even mention IDC around here, man.  I mean, are they kidding with that 'annual flu shot' business? Those fuckers are sick." 

The questions remains, however, why doesn't DOT simply remove the instructions? According to one DOT official, "Because it would cost, oh, I don't know, probably like a million dollars. Do YOU have a million dollars?!"

Lenny, a homeless veteran on the corner of 3rd and Main, gave us his take on the story. "It is symbolic of our current system of democracy.  The government merely provides the illusion of actual participation, whether it be pushing a pedestrian button, dialing 911 or voting for president." After insisting on a dollar for his comment, Lenny turned, dropped his pants and began tongue-kissing a lamppost. 

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 08:54 AM | | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

July 25, 2006

FrivoList: Two (Lousy Ones) for Tuesday

Lousy Names for Women's Perfumes

Desperation

Morning Shame

Putrescence

Gold Digger

Mask (your meds)

Mackerel


Lousy Substitutes for Men's Cologne

Gasoline

Lysol

Baby oil rubbed off from a stripper (with or without glitter)

Wild Turkey

Scope

Your daughter's Teen Spirit

 

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 07:18 AM | | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

July 21, 2006

Friday Bonus

In the spirit of "it takes a lot of effort to avoid working," here is a bonus link that I found quite amusing.  That's right, I am the guy who offers to buy you a drink at an open bar event.

Please enjoy the fruit of someone else's labor...on me.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=4wGR4-SeuJ0

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 12:42 PM | | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Daily Splatter: The Good Times Are Killing Me

Before you start calling me saying that the blog sucked this week (I'm talking to you, Heidi), let me state clearly that, "Yes, this week was lame and I am a poor excuse for a monkey."  If there were a virtual way for me to dance on a table while you throw empty beer cans at my head, I would do it.  But alas, my technical prowess is only undershadowed by my writing ability, and as such I can barely get text up on this Eastern Block-looking website, let alone any fancy-schmancy multi-media stuff. 

My excuse is summer - that time of the year in the Midwest we so lust after and then proceed to cram full of family obligations to the point of exhaustion and/or mercy suicide.  Case in point, here is what is on my social calendar over the next three weeks:

Celebrate my birthday (Yesterday. Thanks for the comments, email, calls.  Fuckers.)
Plan and host dad's 75th birthday party
Take Nerdy Squirrel to Columbus for the bar exam for four days
Plan Wedding Anniversary event
Plan and host Nerdy Squirrel's graduation party
Go to friend's wedding in Buffalo
Leave for Alaskan cruise

Oh yeah, plus work my job, travel like a nomad, keep N.S. from melting down before the exam, stop my grass from dying and be a good monkey. 

So, once again, I make a peace offering to you:

http://www.whatarerecords.com/stephen_lynch/drstephen/index.html

In the mean time, rest assured that I am filled with self-loathing and more than a little constipated.  So put the phone down.  Words can hurt, you know. 

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 10:42 AM |

July 19, 2006

FrivoList: Lousy Names for Trendy New Restaurants

The Festering Fig

Smegma

The Slaughter House Grill

Sam & Ella's Bistro

The Saucy Vomitorium

Yeast Inflections

The Organic Trough

Johnny's Rape Room

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 09:01 AM | | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

July 18, 2006

Daily Splatter: Dude, I'm Sooooo Wasted

 "Would you look at that!" my boss laughed, "We've been on the phone for two and a half hours already."  
 
Yes, like her, I also find that wasting time is both fun and hilarious.  So much so, in fact, that my hobbies include waiting in line at the DMV to ask for restaurant recommendations and attempting to sneak innocuous metal objects through airport security using various bodily orifices.
 
When someone hosts a conference call with six people and has no clear agenda or objectives, time will get away from you.  When they do it once every seven days, it becomes a weekly celebration of their incompetence. 
 
It sure is funny, though.  Sometimes it makes me laugh so hard that tears stream down my face.  After today's festivities, I will probably be laughing at the way to my headhunter's office.

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 08:45 AM | | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

July 17, 2006

News To Me: Recipe For Disaster

George W. Bush's Recipe for Disaster

Two cups sibling rivalry
A tablespoon of shriveled penis
A pinch of knowledge (no more than a pinch)
Equal parts of self-doubt and self-importance
Ten lbs. of Southern Baptist bullshit
 
Mix vigorously with a silver spoon
 
Quickly pour mixture into a dark, covered pan (Make sure to limit exposure to external light).
 
Place in an oven until the Apocalypse.
 
Serve warm.

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 04:46 PM |

July 15, 2006

FrivoList: Chicken Soup Books That Never Made It

Just to prove that I have risen above this ridiculous little rag, today Throwing Poo will feature it's first ever guest author - a manic shithead who calls himself the Unconscientious Objector.  Here is his FrivoList submission.

Chicken Soup Books That Never Made It:

1. Chicken Soup For The Child Pornographer's Soul
 
2. Chicken Soup For The Crack Whore's Soul
 
3. Chicken Soup For That Time When You Went Home With That Chick From The Bar And Woke Up The Next Day With A Strange Rash
 
4. Chicken Soup For The Neo-Nazi Soul
 
5. Chicken Soup For The Guy Who Just Can't Seem To Get It Together With Chicks, Although He's Actually Pretty Good Looking, Works Out, And All That, But Just Doesn't Understand What It Is That These Dumb Bitches Want In Life That He Doesn't Have? Fuckin' Whores!  I'll Show Them...I Mean, He'll Show Them...
 
6. Chicken Soup For The Homeless Man Who, Although Has A Seemingly Real Need For Chicken Soup, Is Likely To Trade It For A Bottle Of Cheap Liquor
 
7. Chicken Soup For The Man With A Truly Inadequate Penis
 
8.  Chicken Soup For The Guy From Book #5 Who Just Realized He Really Needs Book #7  
 

Feel free to comment on whether or not you'd like to read more from Unconscientious Objector, or if you would prefer that he eat a bullet instead.

 

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 09:07 AM | | Comments (6)

July 12, 2006

Daily Splatter: Hacked to Death

Dear Mr. Cliché,
 
I just wanted to send a note to thank you for this inspiring presentation on Fundraising.  Beginning your speech with the saying, "The first three letters of fundraising is F-U-N," was a stroke of genius.  Having spent over ten years in this field, I only get to hear this statement three or four times a week, and it just keeps getting better every time.
 
Your ideas on the topic are the "best thing since sliced bread" and truly represent someone who is "thinking outside the box."  I realize now the truth in the statement "failing to plan is planning to fail" and will definitely "give 110%" to our own fundraising planning which previously has been "on the back burner."  
 
I cannot wait to return to my team (there is no 'I' - ha, ha!) and begin implementing your ideas "where the rubber meets the road."  Thank you again for "teaching an old dog a new trick."
 
Sincerely,
 
Stabbing Pencils In My Ears To End This Unbearable Torture
 
P.S.  The first two letter of fundraising are F-U.

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 10:29 PM | | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

July 11, 2006

Daily Splatter: "It's A Major Award"

Last week I auditioned to be a contributing author on another site called The Peevery - a very entertaining website about all the little things that drive people crazy.  Apparently the folks running The Peevery are not only clever, but they know true, unbridled talent when they see it. 
 
That's right, suckers, I'm a winner.  Me. The guy you thought would forever be known as the seventh-grader who got beat up by a girl.  I won.  I am someone of importance. 
 
By the way, the whole getting-beat-up-by-a-girl thing was complete bullshit and you all know it.  I CHOSE not to fight back.  I was a new age man before it was hip (and before it then became kind of gay, but that's beside the point).  
 
Anyway, for the next month, I will be a guest author on The Peevery.  After that, if things go according to plan, I will be a regular contributor.   When that happens, it is my sincerest hope that my incredible success and fantastic new life will bring some joy into your hopeless and pathetic little lives.
 
You are probably thinking that you will try to ingratiate yourself to me - your only friend who is a celebrity - by sending your congratulations and well wishes.  Please do not bother as I am already forgetting your names.   I do not have time for the little people (i.e., you) anymore as I am busy snorting cocaine off the flawless asses of supermodels. 
 
By the way, if I should happen to bump into you while I am "slumming it," do not attempt to make eye contact with me.   Doing so will only infuriate me and provoke my security detail into beating you to a pulp.

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 10:52 PM | | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

July 10, 2006

Daily Splatter: Public Display

I bumped into a friend over the weekend who asked me how the blog was going.  After several hours of detailed explanation and a failed suicide attempt, he admitted that he has never read it.
 
HIM: Why don't you send me some links to your favorite posts?
 
ME: They are ALL my favorites and they're ALL important. Just read it.  What the fuck kind of friend are you, anyway?
 
HIM: Busy and important, that's what kind.  Quit being a little bitch and send me some links.
 
ME:  Fine.  I just want your constant and undivided attention and approval, is that too much to ask? 
 
HIM: Whatever, dude.  I've gotta split.
 
ME:  OK.  See you later.  (Calling after him) I'll be sure to send you those links.  Feel free to tell others how much you like them! 

Anyway, here are a few posts that don't make me hate myself:
 
There's  A Place You Can Go
 
Instant Feedback
 
Sucking In Real Time
 
Lord of the Open Flies
 
The Artist Formerly Known As
 
Maxi's Pad

 

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 12:25 PM | | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

July 07, 2006

Daily Splatter: Bad Touch

According to legend, whatever King Midas touched turned to gold.  On the contrary, whatever Midas Muffler in Lakewood, Ohio touches turns to shit.
 
Last week I went into Midas to replace the rusted-out muffler on my 1997 Saturn (yes, I'm a fancy man and I drive a fancy car).   While I liked the crushing Harley Davidson sound it was making and enjoyed nothing more than pissing off my nosy neighbors (I'm talking to you, Bob), the noise level was beginning to make it difficult for me to fully enjoy the intricacies of my new Christina Aguilera CD.
 
Fortunately, Midas had actually replaced my original muffler three years ago and the repair was still under warranty.  Well, the parts were under warranty.  Well, one part was under warranty.  The other parts were not.  Neither was the labor.  It also didn't escape my notice that these were the knuckleheads responsible for a repair job that had basically disintegrated in three years.  Maybe it wasn't so fortunate after all.
 
If I had been driving a new or newer car, I would not have let these savages anywhere near it.  But this is a nine-year-old car with 110,000 miles.  I figure I'm making money every time it starts, so I'm only interested in doing enough to keep it on the road.  There is no long-term plan for this vehicle other than the glue factory
 
Midas replaces the muffler, charges me about half of what it would cost to get it done somewhere else, and I leave relatively content.  The next day I hear a noise coming from the rear passenger side wheel.  Upon investigation (something akin to me walking around the car for 10 minutes, cursing it to eternal damnation, and then poking it with a stick), I figure out that the rear sway bar link (i.e., something that prevents me from dying a horrible, fiery death) is broken.  In fact, it has recently been broken.  I know this because the jagged edges of the cast iron are clean and still crumbling (up yours, CSI). 
 
The sway bar link is a part that is right next to the muffler.  A mechanic would have to be either blind or incompetent to miss a broken one while replacing a muffler.  It is so close to the muffler that it could easily be damaged if, oh, I don't know, some greasy, in-bred goon was recklessly swinging a mallet to remove an old muffler. 
 
Now I am forced to make a decision on principle: Do I confront these waterheads for either 1) knowingly damaging my car in order to solicit more business; or 2) being completely incompetent?  Or do I set aside all logic and force myself to chalk it up to bad luck? 
 
My desire to rage on their heinous fuckery is almost sexual, but I know it will bear no fruit.  They will admit nothing, and I can prove nothing.  Even if I made so much noise that they agreed to fix it, God only knows what other damage they would inflict.
 
I cannot win.  They bent me over and I have to take it.  I can only hope that it doesn't happen so often that I begin to like it.

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 08:37 AM | | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

July 06, 2006

Frivolist: Reasons Why I'm A Pathetic Loser

Eating a Gardenburger on the Fourth of July, cooked in a toaster oven, and then spending the subsequent day wallowing in a fog of my own soy-based fireworks. 
 
Mistaking the smile of a young woman to mean she finds me attractive, as opposed to it being a stifled giggle at my old age and inappropriately tight, stone-washed jeans.
 
Frequently daydreaming about sharing my humble, profound and hilarious insights with Jay Leno on the Tonight Show after my unprecedented success as a (fill in the blank).
 
Feeling guilty for having squandered my natural potential with the air guitar.
 
Being completely obsessed with the relatively minor bare spot on my tree lawn and having spent an embarrassing amount of time attempting to grow grass there. 
 
Secretly hoping that parachute pants make a comeback so I can finally tell everyone, "I told you so!"
 
Spending time on my day off thinking of reasons why I'm a pathetic loser and having no trouble coming up with them.  Fuck me.

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 10:22 AM | | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

July 05, 2006

Daily Splatter: Act Natural

Last week I was sitting on the tarmac at O'Hare Airport, looking out my window at another plane that was also waiting to takeoff.  It occurred to me that everyone sitting on my side of the plane should simultaneously flip off the flight next to us.  Not because of any reason, it just seemed to me that road rage should not be limited to cars.  Besides, how funny would it be to look at another plane and see a row of portholes filled with birds of every persuasion?   It would be like a Warhol performance piece.  I was instantly convinced we should do it for art's sake alone and that grant money was available.
 
For the most part, I'm a very rational guy, sometimes to the emotionless point of being a retarded Mr. Spock without the (pick one: handsome facial features; gay wardrobe; need for extra fluffy Q-tips).  Yet every time I'm on a plane that's beginning to take off, a wave of panic washes over me.   Similarly, every time we rise above the clouds and emerge into the sunshine, I'm overwhelmed and wonder about the possibility of God.    Each feeling only lasts about thirty seconds or so, but it always happens.
 
Needless to say, I get a little weird when I fly.  You'd think I'd be use to it by now, but it always fractures me a little.  My theory is that my subconscious knows that flying is unnatural and, despite the abundance of rational reasoning that has shoved it into the cellar and is leaning on the door, the faint echo of, "Holy fucking moron!  Are you trying to kill us?!!" still drifts up into my mind.   This then throws everything off balance.
 
Something akin also happens every time I speak in public.  There was a time when the mere prospect of having to speak to a group would send me beeline to the nearest crapper (this is me sparing you the horrible details).  Over the years, my career has demanded that I make countless presentations to organizations and community groups.  These days I rarely get even the slightest bit uncomfortable before a presentation. (I did not overcome this by trying to picture everyone naked, which, by the way, can often create a whole new set of protruding complications. I just recognize that no one gives a shit about what I'm going to say and wants it to end quickly so they can go and engage in their own favorite brand of subversive behavior.) 
 
However, nearly every time I finish a presentation, I feel as if I've been dunked in a booth of self-loathing.  If, immediately following, it is possible for me to exercise profusely, drink excessively or indulge in a primal screaming fit, I can usually right the list.  If not, I'll continue to take on water for several days before realizing I am sinking.
 
My point being that although we can train our minds and bodies to do anything, they don't have to go willingly.  The mind, in fact, can be a passive-aggressive little fucker sometimes.

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 08:38 AM | | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

July 03, 2006

FrivoList: Superheroes I Could Use

Since it is the rare occasion when an evil villain haphazardly hurls a city bus in my general direction, I began to think about the kinds of superheroes from whom I could actually get some practical benefit.  Please feel free to add your own.
 
Equity Man - Eliminates PMI payments from 30-year mortgages
 
The Siren - On nights before important meetings or early flights, she checks my alarm clock to be sure that it is set correctly so that I don't anxiously awake every hour on the hour to check myself.
 
Sergeant Fiber 
 
Wondering Woman - Sends me back in time to high school but I still get to know what I know now.
 
Website Password Remembering Boy
 
Captain Colonoscopy - Performs painless procedures and ensures healthy prostrates.
 
The Green Gardener - Has the ability to mow my lawn when I am out of town without burning it to the ground or blowing dead grass into the flowerbeds.
 
Supermarket Girl - Always asks me for my I.D. when I purchase alcohol, making me feel young...younger.

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 01:40 PM | | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

July 01, 2006

Daily Splatter: Blunt End

I'm simply exhausted.  Demands at work have ballooned recently, and every indication is that they will continue to swell.  I'm traveling more, eating crappier, sleeping less and growing increasingly anxious.  As a result, I have this weird floating feeling like a car that just sped off a cliff - the flight is exhilarating, but I've got a sneaking suspicion that the landing is going to be a little rough.
 
At times such as this, my creative ideas all seem like turds swirling in a commode of self-loathing.  All I want to do is seek distraction.   Unfortunately, ten channels of HBO and my iPod are all too eager to accommodate. 
 
When this happens, instead of attempting to manage my time better, take my job less seriously or any number of other rational solutions, I just contemplate cutting shit entirely out of my life.   It is kind of like treating a cold by having your sinuses removed.  I want to alleviate the anxiety immediately at any cost.
 
One consideration I've had this week was to end this blog.  While at times I enjoy nothing more than writing these stupid, self-indulgent posts, at other times it is a voracious monster that must be fed. 
 
Eventually, though, I realize that I am acting like a bitch and that annoyed little voice inside pipes up.  "Aw, poor little you with your white collar career, lovely wife, spacious home, and luscious buttocks.  Quit being a knob polisher and grab a helmet, Nancy."
 
I guess at some level it supports my theory that too much analysis often leads to an inflated sense of the significance of one's self.    What could be more boring than that? (For example, see above).
 
Anyway, writing this helps and I need to remember that.  This and the prospect of pancakes tomorrow morning should fix me right up.

Posted by Crunchy Blue Commando at 12:36 PM | | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)