After an extensive layoff from blogging via the funny bone, mrtinney has returned from writing naughty birthday cards with the co-owner of www.sinistercards.com with a few thoughts. Here’s about a years worth in consolidated format.
- In answer to the question “Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near?” I firmly believe it is because you have corn cobs hidden under your arms.
- What is the opposite of opposite? If you said “the same” I am invoking my little known ‘single word answers only please’ rule. Told.
- The sun rises in the East… suck it California.
- It’s not hallucinating if there is Corona involved: it’s creative imagery.
- Look at this ink spot image for 10 seconds:
I don’t care what you see in it… I just wanted to feel the power of making you stare at something for 10 seconds. You’ve been virtually punked.
- If being against gay marriage makes you homophobic, are those that oppose clown weddings but don’t actually fear clowns still Coulrophobia? Just asking.
- Don’t you hate it when people don’t finish their sente
- Follow this twitter feed: The Llama. Gooooooood.
- Top ten things Mimes say: 10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.
- Spelling becomes urgently critical when you meet a deaf genie.
- My doctor said writing a poem about my fears would help overcome my Coulrophobia. I wrote a seven hundred page poetry book entitled “I’m They Guy Huddled In The Corner.” Some of best poetry sections include “Crap In My Pants Again,” and “Yes, Jimmy, I Did Thrust A Javelin Through The Skull Of Mr. Birthday Clown!” I’m feeling better already.
- Quickly think of a number between one and ten. Now hold up that many fingers and say “Wow!” rather loudly. Count the number of people staring at you and ask yourself why the f*ck you just did that.
- Leave a comment for a top ten list you would like to see – most popular one will be the next post.Have a fantastic, clown free day.
My dog crapped and pissed all over herself. This doesn’t happen on a regular basis, just when she is being chased by my dog sitter.
You see, my family and I got the outstanding opportunity to spend a weekend at Virginia Beach in a cabin for a low, low price. So, reasonable thoughts followed, such as:
1. We can board the dogs (dogs would have to get inside of car. Pass)
2. We can take the dogs with (see #1 above)
3. We can hire a pet sitter! (Eureka… with poor results)
Our sitter was a very experienced person with an impressive resume that included bears and tigers. Grant it, I have neither bear nor tiger to offer as a challenge. It turns out she needed neither as she was bested by:
The Basset Hound from Hell (movie rights forthcoming)
This experienced and confident sitter called my cell phone on day one of our trip to inform me that:
a. Basset came out of kennel with the lightning fast reflexes of a Cheetah (something she did not have on that resume, by the way).
b. Basset pissed all over herself and all objects she came in contact with for approximately 10 straight minutes (this includes rugs and the sitter. Who knew Basset has bladder the size of New Jersey).
c. Basset then crapped herself in the house in multiple spots whilst barking a tune (I’m thinking something patriotic perhaps?)
c. Basset, with the ferociousness of a wild beast (presumably something more intimidating than bear or tiger) proceeded to corner said experienced pet sitter with, and I quote, “a nervous growl” and further refuse to re-enter her kennel.
Neither Snausage nor dog biscuit proved to be the great temptation needed to dislodge said Basset from her final chosen defensive position on the leather chair (also polished with urine). Like a cross between a Marine sniper and a Kung Fu expert, she managed to obtain the treats and return to her perch without collateral damage or progress toward her kennel.
Although discouraged by these first day antics, our experienced sitter assured me that, if left out just this one night, she would surely be able to re-insert this out-of-control dog into her kennel on day two. I left the phone conversation with high expectations, bated breath, and the promise of a text or call the next day with an update.
Day two proved to be uneventful for our Basset and sitter… if you count turds flying like bullets, urine spraying like a water hose, and more teeth bearing than a rabid wolf pack as uneventful. The Basset was no more interested in befriending our pet sitter on day two than the previous day and proceeded to threaten the loss of any appendage that ventured near her, Snausage or not. Befuddled, but not completely discouraged, the sitter proceeded to clean up messes, all the while, I am certain, looking over her shoulder with care and hope that she would not be trounced by a 39 pound Daschund look-a-like. Keep in mind that there was another Basset in the house at the time who was mostly cooperative and obedient the entire time… even allowing the sitter to pet him. Please note: The cooperative Basset is decidedly male. Ladies, just a note so hold the hate mail.
Day three proved unsuccessful at a similar level. Let’s just call it a “three-peat.” Male Basset resigns himself to putting up with this stranger in the house (after all, she has food!) and female Basset proceeds to threaten dismemberment and offer bodily waste, panic, and mayhem.
Upon arriving home, I found a completely hoarse female Basset smelling of bad things, a curiously comfortable male Basset in a kennel filled with Snausages and gas, and a note from our bewildered visitor thanking me for “the business.” I’m not sure which “business” she was referring to as there was both “funny business” as well as “business taken care of” in a bathroom way.
One thing is for sure, however. Score Basset 1 – Sitter 0. Now we are just deciding on a rematch.
I was at Costco today to “pick up a few things” when I realized I probably spend more time in Costco than even, gulp, the dreaded Wal-Mart. The place is big enough to land a Cessna in and probably sells one, at a low, low price, in a remote area I’ve yet to discover. Next time I’ll get that optional map and find it.
Where else can one go and purchase 500 lbs. of Baby Bell cheese, a much-needed $2,999.00 grill, and a vacation for four at a discount in one stop? Wal-Mart has been trumped. Costco’s theory, obviously, is that you should be able to buy everything needed to clothe, feed, and shelter a small country… at a low, low price.
I am beginning to realize that I spend a large percentage of my time and money at Costco. If you throw Wal-Mart into the calculation I might as well call shopping my life pursuit. When, I pondered, when did this begin? (insert flashback harp music and blurry scene smoke here)
Children. Where, except Costco and such, can one obtain 4,000 diapers and 52,000,000 butt wipes (scented!) on a pallet for, you guessed it, a low, low price? First it was baby stuff. Then toddler needs (Look, Honey, a beautiful stroller with built-in DVD player and garden tools!). We are now painfully entering the teenage years with similar gusto… 15lb. buckets of Noxzema skin wipes and PS3 bundles with night vision goggles.
Don’t get me wrong! I, too, have fallen prey to the Costco approach of hoarding…er… bulk purchasing. Let’s just say I won’t be running out of baked beans this year!
So, the next time you visit a big warehouse superstore be sure and bring plenty of funding… you never know when they’ll finally get that lifetime supply of Q-tips or 100lb. bucket of high quality dishwasher tabs… at a low, low price of course.
Hello folks. Just a few Saturday thoughts to get as all warm and fuzzy…. beats being set on fire while wearing slippers…
- Dear Parents: Children running around in circles screaming “boobies!” in a crowded waiting room is adorable – for about .10 milliseconds. If you are going to allow this, at least make it interesting and let us trip them a couple of times… or give us a stick or something.
- The Supreme Court is about to make a ruling on the ObamaCare “penalty” clause. My favorite part so far is the fact the justices can’t be expected to actually read the information they are tasked with ruling on. Oh well – Congress didn’t read it so why should they.
- Polls show if Mitt Romney were to give out $50.00 in cash to every voter he met, his popularity rating would rise from “we don’t like you” at 58% to “thanks for the 50 bucks… we still don’t like you” at 58.1%. It looks like Romney is going to drag Santorum’s cardboard image and Newt’s dead body into the Republican convention, one wrapped around each leg. Come on Newt: know when it’s over… which was 1990.
- I was helping my daughter with math recently, and they had a question about traveling a certain distance from one U. S. location to Chicago. All I kept thinking is I don’t care how long it takes, just why the hell are you going to Chicago? Watch the news, stupid math book people. Makes Compton look friendly.
- Ok, Duck and Beaver… the Platypus joke is over. We know you got it on in Australia.
- Homotextual: The act of a dude saying something in a text to another dude that would go over fine in person… but looks gay in print, like: “Bring your balls or we can’t play.” Softball game text fail.
- I recently had an interesting discussion with somebody about the details surrounding Whitney Houston’s death. They were trying to convince me I cared.
- I was going to start practicing Nihilism until I figured out I would have to increase my “don’t care” to meet group standards.
- Someone needs to tell Christina Aguilera‘s boobs the show is called “The Voice” not “The Great Shirt Escape.” Dear Xtina: your dropped something(s).
- With the news that three lucky people won the 640+ million dollar lotto last night, the news here had a previous winner on to explain why winning over 100 million dollar last year was both a “blessing and a curse.” Really? Dear 100 million dollar winner from last year: If you think pulling in 100 mil after taxes has a “curse” part, YOU ARE DOING IT WRONG!
- We had a group of people at work put in $10.00 each and purchase about 200 lotto tickets. I took my $10.00 and bought strong drink and tasty food stuffs. I’m giving myself the win on that one if you don’t count the hangover too much.