Last night, just like the Mayor did a few weeks back, I had a dream too.....well it was more like a phone call, but there was a little voice on the other end telling me I had to quit Blogging......until the weekends.
Suffice it to say, I always do what the little voices tell me. So, until they speak again and advise me it's all right to Blog everyday, probably in early November, I'll be switching to weekend posts only.
You're still welcome to come here everyday to see if I'm lying, but I'm not.....or am I?
See you Saturday.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Monday, March 27, 2006
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Don't shoot the puppy
How about a game? We haven't had one of those in a while. Something mindless and easy to play.
After three days of crying, I need to laugh anyway.
After three days of crying, I need to laugh anyway.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Mitchieville Dec. 31, 2004 - Mar. 15, 2006 R.I.P.
I would like to end this three day eulogy by listing three of my Mitchieville favourites: saying, picture, post.
*drum roll* The envelope please.
For saying: "In Canada, Moosehead is a beer, in Vermont, it's a misdemeanour."
For Picture: I can’t remember where this picture was taken. It was either at the super secret fallout bunker location in Camp Mitchieville or that time The Mayor asked me to come camping with him while we tended a friend's sheep.
And now for my favourite Mitchieville post of all time.
Sunday, January 09, 2005
Joe shits in his bed, twice
Here's a little tribute to my buddy Joe. Joe had a stomach flu around Christmas time, and told all his friends a charming story about how he shit his bed, twice.
Joe didn't feel well this Christmas night,
He even missed dinner, he ate not a bite,
He said his tummy wasn't feeling right,
So he went to bed, and turned out the light.
He felt like it would be better if he was dead,
His stomach was grumbling, his face it was red,
His temp it was high, there was a pounding in his head,
Then he fell asleep, and shit in his bed.
When he woke up, he was covered in goo,
Messy and sticky, rolling in poo,
It was on his face, his arms, his back, that is true,
I think even Domenica was laying in it too,
He went to the washroom to clean off the crap,
All the poor fucker wanted to do, was to go back and nap,
So he changed the sheets and climbed back into the sack,
Hopefully that was the last of his bowel attack.
But on this night, God was not his friend,
He should have gone to sleep wearing depends,
I guess his nightmare wouldn't quite end,
Cuz he shit his bed, again and again.
The difference between Joe and his dog is certainly deep,
I suppose that his dog wouldn't shit where it sleeps.
Joe should sleep on some newspaper, instead of his sheets,
Cuz those things cost money, they sure aint cheap.
The moral of the story is plain to see,
Wrap a bag around your body if you're feeling diseased,
Take ammodium for your gut, and aspirin for your head,
And maybe you wont shit in your bed.
UPDATE: Domenica has sent me a few more lines that I have to include, cuz they made me chuckle so much. If you have a line or 2, put them in the comments section, or email them to me and I'll post them.
It's plain to see, yours is a friendship so true,
To be telling the tale of Joe, his stomach grumbling, him rolling in poo.
The story he told was not at all "charming",
from where I was, it was quite alarming!
To set the record straight, although I bore witness to Joe's unfortunate state,
No laying in it on my part. I just woke up to what I thought was a REALLY smelly fart.
All kidding aside, it wasnt a pretty sight,but Joe took it like a man and took a shower twice!
*drum roll* The envelope please.
For saying: "In Canada, Moosehead is a beer, in Vermont, it's a misdemeanour."
For Picture: I can’t remember where this picture was taken. It was either at the super secret fallout bunker location in Camp Mitchieville or that time The Mayor asked me to come camping with him while we tended a friend's sheep.
And now for my favourite Mitchieville post of all time.
Sunday, January 09, 2005
Joe shits in his bed, twice
Here's a little tribute to my buddy Joe. Joe had a stomach flu around Christmas time, and told all his friends a charming story about how he shit his bed, twice.
Joe didn't feel well this Christmas night,
He even missed dinner, he ate not a bite,
He said his tummy wasn't feeling right,
So he went to bed, and turned out the light.
He felt like it would be better if he was dead,
His stomach was grumbling, his face it was red,
His temp it was high, there was a pounding in his head,
Then he fell asleep, and shit in his bed.
When he woke up, he was covered in goo,
Messy and sticky, rolling in poo,
It was on his face, his arms, his back, that is true,
I think even Domenica was laying in it too,
He went to the washroom to clean off the crap,
All the poor fucker wanted to do, was to go back and nap,
So he changed the sheets and climbed back into the sack,
Hopefully that was the last of his bowel attack.
But on this night, God was not his friend,
He should have gone to sleep wearing depends,
I guess his nightmare wouldn't quite end,
Cuz he shit his bed, again and again.
The difference between Joe and his dog is certainly deep,
I suppose that his dog wouldn't shit where it sleeps.
Joe should sleep on some newspaper, instead of his sheets,
Cuz those things cost money, they sure aint cheap.
The moral of the story is plain to see,
Wrap a bag around your body if you're feeling diseased,
Take ammodium for your gut, and aspirin for your head,
And maybe you wont shit in your bed.
UPDATE: Domenica has sent me a few more lines that I have to include, cuz they made me chuckle so much. If you have a line or 2, put them in the comments section, or email them to me and I'll post them.
It's plain to see, yours is a friendship so true,
To be telling the tale of Joe, his stomach grumbling, him rolling in poo.
The story he told was not at all "charming",
from where I was, it was quite alarming!
To set the record straight, although I bore witness to Joe's unfortunate state,
No laying in it on my part. I just woke up to what I thought was a REALLY smelly fart.
All kidding aside, it wasnt a pretty sight,but Joe took it like a man and took a shower twice!
Goodbye Mayor. You'll be missed.....and I'll miss you most of all Scarecrow.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Eulogy part 2
What more can be said about the Mayor and his Blog?
Mitchieville was a place where we could cast off the daily grind, and relax with a few words of wisdom from our brother Blogger.
The Mayor was always quick to keep us up to date on current events. He was informative and helpful. He never made fun of his readers, (see picture). What a swell guy.
In fact, he had a soft spot when listening to his constituents concerns.
Even after a dirty campaign fight with his nemesis Jerry Casby. He often let his tenderness show through when he blogged.
If it weren’t for the Mayor I would have never known the dead body guy, or how to talk to women. He had an ingrained ability to show me there was always another way to look at the world.
Yes sir, that man was special......Oh God....I'm tearing up.....I promised him I wouldn't cry.
Tomorrow I will end this tribute with my three favourite Mitchieville moments. Saying, Picture and Post. Be advised to bring a box of tissues......
Mitchieville was a place where we could cast off the daily grind, and relax with a few words of wisdom from our brother Blogger.
The Mayor was always quick to keep us up to date on current events. He was informative and helpful. He never made fun of his readers, (see picture). What a swell guy.
In fact, he had a soft spot when listening to his constituents concerns.
Even after a dirty campaign fight with his nemesis Jerry Casby. He often let his tenderness show through when he blogged.
If it weren’t for the Mayor I would have never known the dead body guy, or how to talk to women. He had an ingrained ability to show me there was always another way to look at the world.
Yes sir, that man was special......Oh God....I'm tearing up.....I promised him I wouldn't cry.
Tomorrow I will end this tribute with my three favourite Mitchieville moments. Saying, Picture and Post. Be advised to bring a box of tissues......
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Thus quote the Mayor..."Evermore"
All right, it was a week ago the Mayor decided he was closing the doors to his Blog forever.
In memory of his wit, and humour, and humanitarianism...really I could go on, but I won’t, I had a fitting tribute planned with some of my favourite posts, and links from his site. I spent hours upon hours, scouring his archives, looking for the gems and then what happens?
The Mayor comes out of a three day retirement and starts posting again like a madman. I think as of today he had posted 782 new Blogs in three days. Holy fuck! Did his special Columbian shipment finally get here or something?
Well, you know what? Fuck it! I’m giving the bastard the send-off he deserves whether he likes it or not. And this is no easy task. It could take a few days as my researchers, (me), comb the annuls, (Huh,huh...I said annuls), of his Blog.
Mitchieville was a fun place, a nice place,...dare I say it?....A wonderful place where we could all go on a daily basis and run free like buffalo roaming the open plains, until they were all slaughtered.
There among the pages was the kind, sensitive, comedic foray of our extraordinary Mayor.
Who will ever forget some of his priceless links? Links like "Fat chicks in party hats," or "hamsters in hats," for that matter. He was willing to link the risky, "Jesus of the week," and "dad this is Karen," to the absurd: Some idiot who thinks he's Peter Pan other than M.J.
The Mayor will always be remembered as a great lover of animals, (Not in the biblical sense), but kindness, (see picture), yet strange obsession towards them. Seals and penguins in particular were his favourite.
His amazing ability to help others through posts like this one, and his selfless awareness of self being. I mean who could ever forget The Mayor's quest for hits by putting his balls on the line?....Yes we will miss the Mayor.
In memory of his wit, and humour, and humanitarianism...really I could go on, but I won’t, I had a fitting tribute planned with some of my favourite posts, and links from his site. I spent hours upon hours, scouring his archives, looking for the gems and then what happens?
The Mayor comes out of a three day retirement and starts posting again like a madman. I think as of today he had posted 782 new Blogs in three days. Holy fuck! Did his special Columbian shipment finally get here or something?
Well, you know what? Fuck it! I’m giving the bastard the send-off he deserves whether he likes it or not. And this is no easy task. It could take a few days as my researchers, (me), comb the annuls, (Huh,huh...I said annuls), of his Blog.
Mitchieville was a fun place, a nice place,...dare I say it?....A wonderful place where we could all go on a daily basis and run free like buffalo roaming the open plains, until they were all slaughtered.
There among the pages was the kind, sensitive, comedic foray of our extraordinary Mayor.
Who will ever forget some of his priceless links? Links like "Fat chicks in party hats," or "hamsters in hats," for that matter. He was willing to link the risky, "Jesus of the week," and "dad this is Karen," to the absurd: Some idiot who thinks he's Peter Pan other than M.J.
The Mayor will always be remembered as a great lover of animals, (Not in the biblical sense), but kindness, (see picture), yet strange obsession towards them. Seals and penguins in particular were his favourite.
His amazing ability to help others through posts like this one, and his selfless awareness of self being. I mean who could ever forget The Mayor's quest for hits by putting his balls on the line?....Yes we will miss the Mayor.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Heads you win
Do you see that? I make a comment about yesterday being the first day of spring and how we've had a mild winter, then it snows last night. You know what? Fuck it all. Fuck winter. Fuck spring. Fuck that fuckin' groundhog.
But that's neither here nor there concerning today's post.
Look, I know you don’t like listening to women...unless you are a woman....and even then....some women can't stand listening to other women. In fact, you go out of your way to avoid conversing with them because generally, as men, we all run out of things to say sooner or later, and then we have to tune out.
But I guarentee today, this is one woman you want to listen to, (no not me silly. The woman in the link I'm going to post.) Why? Because she is going to tell you what you need to do, to get more head from your woman.
It’s a win-win situation, and when I say "win-win," I mean all for us.
Outside of the pleasurable esthetics of the act itself when she's down to lube the tube, she has her mouth full and can’t very well speak can she? So you don’t have to listen. Get it? So listen just this once to what a female has to say on the subject.
She'll tell you great things like it's a mouth not a gloryhole. Don't fuck it until you get to the stomach. And say it don't just spray it. Give the girl the option when you're unloading, because, she might have psychological issues over swallowing the entire population of China, or as she said, "It doesn't taste like butterscotch."
Looks like I have to find a new topping for my icecream.
But that's neither here nor there concerning today's post.
Look, I know you don’t like listening to women...unless you are a woman....and even then....some women can't stand listening to other women. In fact, you go out of your way to avoid conversing with them because generally, as men, we all run out of things to say sooner or later, and then we have to tune out.
But I guarentee today, this is one woman you want to listen to, (no not me silly. The woman in the link I'm going to post.) Why? Because she is going to tell you what you need to do, to get more head from your woman.
It’s a win-win situation, and when I say "win-win," I mean all for us.
Outside of the pleasurable esthetics of the act itself when she's down to lube the tube, she has her mouth full and can’t very well speak can she? So you don’t have to listen. Get it? So listen just this once to what a female has to say on the subject.
She'll tell you great things like it's a mouth not a gloryhole. Don't fuck it until you get to the stomach. And say it don't just spray it. Give the girl the option when you're unloading, because, she might have psychological issues over swallowing the entire population of China, or as she said, "It doesn't taste like butterscotch."
Looks like I have to find a new topping for my icecream.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
He'll be back again some day
Vernal Equinox? Sounds like a South American soccer player.
Today is the first full day of Spring. It arrived yesterday afternoon, but I had my head up my ass and missed it.
Personally I don’t think we suffered much this winter. I can only remember shovelling the driveway twice. Perhaps where you are, you’re still digging out, but take heart. The warmer weather is on the way and hopefully, you won’t have to look at the white shit, or endure S.A.D. again til Novemeber/December.
Really nothing funny about today's post. Unless you think the death of a snowman is humorous, you sick bastard?
Monday, March 20, 2006
CMN #11
This is the last post in the Chuck Norris Monday series. Yes that's right......this series went to eleven, which is one louder, isn't it?
I thought as a fitting tribute, I would post a link showing the remarkable God-like powers of Mr. Norris. With out further delay......Chuck Norris vs God.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Snakes and sharks, oh my
Attendance is off and plummeting even further for theatres everywhere, as people decide to spend their entertainment dollars on other activities like hookers and blow.
What do you expect when Lion's Gate re-releases "Crash" into theatres, in a flagrant cash grab. Perhaps they should have changed the title to "Cash"? They would've snared more idiots for a film that has been on DVD and television for months.
The film head honchos are now exploring the possibility of installing software that will jam cell phone reception while sitting in front of the big screen, in hope of attracting back the movie going audience.
While the movie industry has their collective head up their ass over this issue, let me once again scream out, "Just make better fuckin’ movies and stop trying to rip us off!"
Do you think anyone is going to get inline for celluloid gems like this. I think not. Is Samuel L. Jackson that hard up for rolls he has to resort to this kind of folderol?
What’s next? The actual realization of a parody such as this? A sequel from the people who brought you, "Must Love Dogs." I’d rather watch a shitty downloaded cam version of "Eight Below" while GIGC balls her eyes out next to me.
What do you expect when Lion's Gate re-releases "Crash" into theatres, in a flagrant cash grab. Perhaps they should have changed the title to "Cash"? They would've snared more idiots for a film that has been on DVD and television for months.
The film head honchos are now exploring the possibility of installing software that will jam cell phone reception while sitting in front of the big screen, in hope of attracting back the movie going audience.
While the movie industry has their collective head up their ass over this issue, let me once again scream out, "Just make better fuckin’ movies and stop trying to rip us off!"
Do you think anyone is going to get inline for celluloid gems like this. I think not. Is Samuel L. Jackson that hard up for rolls he has to resort to this kind of folderol?
What’s next? The actual realization of a parody such as this? A sequel from the people who brought you, "Must Love Dogs." I’d rather watch a shitty downloaded cam version of "Eight Below" while GIGC balls her eyes out next to me.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
St. Pats: It's not just about puking anymore
I realize I've been focusing much of my attention on another Blog that shall remain nameless in this post. I've gotten away from the mindless links and normal blather that makes Strangedaze slightly below average.
In an effort to correct this before the clock ticks away and I'm relegated to weekends until the fall, I'd like to return a certain level of normalcy.
The day after the night before is usually a rough one. Especially when that day is St. Patricks Day. However it's not just about Leprechauns, and lepers anymore. There’s a whole greeting card business booming and taking a rightful stand next to Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day and Christmas.
Feast your eyes on some of these little buggers.
In an effort to correct this before the clock ticks away and I'm relegated to weekends until the fall, I'd like to return a certain level of normalcy.
The day after the night before is usually a rough one. Especially when that day is St. Patricks Day. However it's not just about Leprechauns, and lepers anymore. There’s a whole greeting card business booming and taking a rightful stand next to Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day and Christmas.
Feast your eyes on some of these little buggers.
The Mayor's disappearing act
As some of you may know, I have been concerned about my friend the Mayor over the past few days, and his persistent declarations that he has decided to quit Blogging.
Yesterday I dropped by the office to wish him a great St. Patty’s Day and perhaps coax him out for a green pint or two.
The office was empty. I was about to leave when I heard a grunt emerge from beneath his desk. There I found the Mayor on a small mattress of urine stained yellow, where he’d apparently spent the night in solitude. His hair was a dishevelled mess, which I found very odd since the Mayor doesn’t have any hair. He refused to come out, but waved two pair of tickets at me from his humble domicile.
"Which would you rather see, David Copperfield or the theatre production of Lord of the Rings?" He said.
"Can’t I go to both?"
"They’re both for tonight."
"Why don’t you just start blogging again and go yourself."
"No!"
I said. "Dude you have to get off this crazy twelve-step program you’re on."
"Do you want them or not? Choose!"
"Ok David Copperfield....no...Lord of the Rings....no Copperfield."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, cause maybe Copperfield will pick me from the audience when he does one of those 'teleporting an audience member to where they want to go,' tricks and I can have him send me to Lord of the Rings....huh?"
The Mayor popped his head up so just his eyes appeared above the horizon of the mahogany. "You’re crazy, you know that?"
"This from a man living under his desk," I responded.
"Ok...here." He handed me both pairs. "Copperfield is out of town. Go see my midget man servant Pano, and he will take you to the show in the chopper."
"What’s wrong with the Jet? Why can’t I take the jet?"
"The jet’s being used as a temporary methadone clinic for homeless addicts."
"Jesus! Things are really falling apart around here fast."
Once again the seats were beyond reproach. Both shows were entertaining, yet lacking the fullness of entertainment satisfaction. I guess I should have selected just one show. And I don't think Copperfield was too pleased when I punched an elderly man and caught the frisbee. I told him I didn't want to be teleported to Austrailia. I wanted to be sent to the Lord of the Rings.
He whispered out the side of his mouth. "Tell the audience you want to go to Austrailia."
"No!" I said. "I already have the tickets. I want to go The Lord of the Rings."
Copperfield sighed. " Ladies and gentlemen, I will now send this man to Austrailia. He may age a bit in the process."
"What the..."
He threw a tarp over me. Made me disappear. I was whiskied off the stage in secret. Thrown into the back of a limo and told never to come back to any of his shows. Apparently, someone who looked more like the elderly chap I stole the frisbee from, appeared on a beach in Brisbane to the cummunal awe of those in attendance.
As for the Mayor he is now past the 72nd hour of his non-blogging March madness. I urge you. Go to him now! Request that he ends his literary famine and open up the gates of his unusual and dark comedic brain once more. Plus I hear he’s looking to dump some Platinum seats, court side, for the Raptor’s game .
Yesterday I dropped by the office to wish him a great St. Patty’s Day and perhaps coax him out for a green pint or two.
The office was empty. I was about to leave when I heard a grunt emerge from beneath his desk. There I found the Mayor on a small mattress of urine stained yellow, where he’d apparently spent the night in solitude. His hair was a dishevelled mess, which I found very odd since the Mayor doesn’t have any hair. He refused to come out, but waved two pair of tickets at me from his humble domicile.
"Which would you rather see, David Copperfield or the theatre production of Lord of the Rings?" He said.
"Can’t I go to both?"
"They’re both for tonight."
"Why don’t you just start blogging again and go yourself."
"No!"
I said. "Dude you have to get off this crazy twelve-step program you’re on."
"Do you want them or not? Choose!"
"Ok David Copperfield....no...Lord of the Rings....no Copperfield."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, cause maybe Copperfield will pick me from the audience when he does one of those 'teleporting an audience member to where they want to go,' tricks and I can have him send me to Lord of the Rings....huh?"
The Mayor popped his head up so just his eyes appeared above the horizon of the mahogany. "You’re crazy, you know that?"
"This from a man living under his desk," I responded.
"Ok...here." He handed me both pairs. "Copperfield is out of town. Go see my midget man servant Pano, and he will take you to the show in the chopper."
"What’s wrong with the Jet? Why can’t I take the jet?"
"The jet’s being used as a temporary methadone clinic for homeless addicts."
"Jesus! Things are really falling apart around here fast."
Once again the seats were beyond reproach. Both shows were entertaining, yet lacking the fullness of entertainment satisfaction. I guess I should have selected just one show. And I don't think Copperfield was too pleased when I punched an elderly man and caught the frisbee. I told him I didn't want to be teleported to Austrailia. I wanted to be sent to the Lord of the Rings.
He whispered out the side of his mouth. "Tell the audience you want to go to Austrailia."
"No!" I said. "I already have the tickets. I want to go The Lord of the Rings."
Copperfield sighed. " Ladies and gentlemen, I will now send this man to Austrailia. He may age a bit in the process."
"What the..."
He threw a tarp over me. Made me disappear. I was whiskied off the stage in secret. Thrown into the back of a limo and told never to come back to any of his shows. Apparently, someone who looked more like the elderly chap I stole the frisbee from, appeared on a beach in Brisbane to the cummunal awe of those in attendance.
As for the Mayor he is now past the 72nd hour of his non-blogging March madness. I urge you. Go to him now! Request that he ends his literary famine and open up the gates of his unusual and dark comedic brain once more. Plus I hear he’s looking to dump some Platinum seats, court side, for the Raptor’s game .
Friday, March 17, 2006
Queen La-thief-a
Once again I was the recipient of the Mayor’s hospitality. This time through GIGC.
She was stopping by the Mayor’s office to drop off a stick of French bread, a fruit basket, and just to say hi.
She found him in his now depressed state, wallowing in anguish. He paused long enough to remove the gun from his mouth and asked her, "do you want some really sweet tickets to see Queen and Paul Rogers?"
"Where did you get them?"
"I stole them," he replied.
"Really?" She said.
"No not really. Haven't you heard? I don't want to Blog anymore."
"Oh." She said. "Well....good luck with all that."
Then she asked the question most troubling her brain. "What’s the catch? What do I have to do for these tickets?"
He said, "Make sure you take Strange with you".
Although faced with a hard decision, she relented and took the tickets.
First of all, I don’t know where the Mayor keeps getting these seats but they were again spectacular. We were dead centre on the floor about five rows back from the catwalk stage that jutted out into the audience like some phallic beast.
Brian May was so close he actually sweated on me several times, burning my eyes. He’ll be hearing from my lawyer.
The show was amazing. They played that Vanilla Ice song, then they played that David Bowie "Pressure" song, a bunch of Bad Company songs, and topped it all off with that Wayne’s World song, and the other one you some times hear in sports arenas.
The only downfall of the evening was, being that close to the stage tends to scare audiences when the band members are, how should I say, of a more mature age. I can’t imagine the horror of actually being that close to seeing the Stones perform. It would be simply terrifing.
Paul Rogers looked like Chuck Norris which in itself is scarry enough. Although he didn’t look like the 65 year old Chuck. He looked more like the 62 year old Chuck.
I think Kelsey Grammar was on keyboards, and the guitarist from Loverboy on rhythm. Not Mike Reno, the other red bandana wearing freak, what’s his name.
Then there was Roger Taylor who had a fat Rutger Hauer vibe going on. I nearly shit myself twice when he was allowed to linger near the edge of the catwalk.
In all a great show. I can’t wait to see what the Mayor has for us next. That is, if he’s still alive?
She was stopping by the Mayor’s office to drop off a stick of French bread, a fruit basket, and just to say hi.
She found him in his now depressed state, wallowing in anguish. He paused long enough to remove the gun from his mouth and asked her, "do you want some really sweet tickets to see Queen and Paul Rogers?"
"Where did you get them?"
"I stole them," he replied.
"Really?" She said.
"No not really. Haven't you heard? I don't want to Blog anymore."
"Oh." She said. "Well....good luck with all that."
Then she asked the question most troubling her brain. "What’s the catch? What do I have to do for these tickets?"
He said, "Make sure you take Strange with you".
Although faced with a hard decision, she relented and took the tickets.
First of all, I don’t know where the Mayor keeps getting these seats but they were again spectacular. We were dead centre on the floor about five rows back from the catwalk stage that jutted out into the audience like some phallic beast.
Brian May was so close he actually sweated on me several times, burning my eyes. He’ll be hearing from my lawyer.
The show was amazing. They played that Vanilla Ice song, then they played that David Bowie "Pressure" song, a bunch of Bad Company songs, and topped it all off with that Wayne’s World song, and the other one you some times hear in sports arenas.
The only downfall of the evening was, being that close to the stage tends to scare audiences when the band members are, how should I say, of a more mature age. I can’t imagine the horror of actually being that close to seeing the Stones perform. It would be simply terrifing.
Paul Rogers looked like Chuck Norris which in itself is scarry enough. Although he didn’t look like the 65 year old Chuck. He looked more like the 62 year old Chuck.
I think Kelsey Grammar was on keyboards, and the guitarist from Loverboy on rhythm. Not Mike Reno, the other red bandana wearing freak, what’s his name.
Then there was Roger Taylor who had a fat Rutger Hauer vibe going on. I nearly shit myself twice when he was allowed to linger near the edge of the catwalk.
In all a great show. I can’t wait to see what the Mayor has for us next. That is, if he’s still alive?
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Mayor makes amends
Earlier in the year the Mayor sent me and GIGC to a Leafs game to watch them play the San Jose Sharks. Said he was giving us his special seats. Seats that nearly caused me to have a brain aneurysm, they were up so high . So when the Mayor offered us tickets while the Bruins were in town. I had to think twice.
He assured me these were much better ducats than the previous offering. He told me he had been given the seats as a gift with his newly loaded Ford Explorer that has bullet proof glass. (That's what you need when you give your kid a loaded fire-arm for his birthday.)
I asked him, "How come you aren't going to the game?"
He said he couldn’t go because he was having surgery on an annoying goiter.
I said, "Really?"
And he said, "No. Not really. I just don't feel like going. In fact, I don't feel like doing anything. You know what? I'm going to quit Blogging."
Just like that. He blurted it out in the snap of fingers like switch-blade steel. "I'm going to quit Blogging."
It was at that point that I asked the Mayor the most important question of all. "So...uh..do you have the tickets on you or do I have to pick them up?"
Fortunately he had them on him and handed them over with a sad expression that should've been reserved for the creepiest of clowns.
Well let me tell you people. The seats were in the ACC restaurant, right on the glass, overlooking the rink, and were spectacular. I think that is the first time I’ve ever had a meal where I actually looked snooty while I ate.
They brought us pheasant, lobster, grilled partridge, stuffed mushrooms, fillet minion, the works. It was hard to watch the game there was so much food and booze.
Initially the match between the two juggernauts was not going the way of the Buds and GIGC, being the fan she is, was not taking things lightly. Let's just say, shortly after someone threw a piece of prime rib and Yorkshire pudding onto the ice, the boys turned it around. They came back to win in a shootout 5-4.
Wow! What a game.
However, a few times during the evening, I think when I was at the urinal, my thoughts turned back to the Mayor and his strange demeanor. "He's going to quit Blogging? He can't do that. Who will I rip my stuff off of?"
So I urge you, what few readers I have, (probably all from Mitchieville anyway), to go to the Mayor's side and urge him not to quit. If that fails. I know where he lives.
We need good men like the Mayor in our lives to prove milk can still come out of our noses and your right testicle will pop like a balloon if you laugh too hard.
He assured me these were much better ducats than the previous offering. He told me he had been given the seats as a gift with his newly loaded Ford Explorer that has bullet proof glass. (That's what you need when you give your kid a loaded fire-arm for his birthday.)
I asked him, "How come you aren't going to the game?"
He said he couldn’t go because he was having surgery on an annoying goiter.
I said, "Really?"
And he said, "No. Not really. I just don't feel like going. In fact, I don't feel like doing anything. You know what? I'm going to quit Blogging."
Just like that. He blurted it out in the snap of fingers like switch-blade steel. "I'm going to quit Blogging."
It was at that point that I asked the Mayor the most important question of all. "So...uh..do you have the tickets on you or do I have to pick them up?"
Fortunately he had them on him and handed them over with a sad expression that should've been reserved for the creepiest of clowns.
Well let me tell you people. The seats were in the ACC restaurant, right on the glass, overlooking the rink, and were spectacular. I think that is the first time I’ve ever had a meal where I actually looked snooty while I ate.
They brought us pheasant, lobster, grilled partridge, stuffed mushrooms, fillet minion, the works. It was hard to watch the game there was so much food and booze.
Initially the match between the two juggernauts was not going the way of the Buds and GIGC, being the fan she is, was not taking things lightly. Let's just say, shortly after someone threw a piece of prime rib and Yorkshire pudding onto the ice, the boys turned it around. They came back to win in a shootout 5-4.
Wow! What a game.
However, a few times during the evening, I think when I was at the urinal, my thoughts turned back to the Mayor and his strange demeanor. "He's going to quit Blogging? He can't do that. Who will I rip my stuff off of?"
So I urge you, what few readers I have, (probably all from Mitchieville anyway), to go to the Mayor's side and urge him not to quit. If that fails. I know where he lives.
We need good men like the Mayor in our lives to prove milk can still come out of our noses and your right testicle will pop like a balloon if you laugh too hard.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Johnny Rotten is not your monkey
The Sex Pistols have snubbed the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame induction saying, amid flatulence and other gastric noises, "Next to the Sex Pistols rock and roll and that hall of fame is a piss stain," and, "Your museum. Urine in wine. We're not coming. We're not your monkey and so what?"
I guess that pretty much sums it up. But good God, look at that face. Tell me do you really want to fork over the $20 plus U.S. to gain entrance into the Hall's already blah interior, and then have to stare at that mug? Or smell the fecal matter they chose to write their names in the autograph corridor? Well do ya?
Hey Johnny here's a news flash: guys who are pushing 60 aren't considered rebellious anymore, they're just thought of as senile farts. Like poor old Uncle Willie, former P.O.W., who tells people to "fuck off" repeatedly and still steals bread off the dinner table and stuffs it up under his sweater.
I wonder what Syd Vicious would have had to say or do about all this?
Full story's here.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
It’s unanimous
Did I see right?
Last night I saw an ad for a new reality television program called "Unanimous". The premiss is they lock twelve people in a bunker underground. Only one of which will win a prize pool starting at 1.5 million.
The catch is, they all have to unanimously agree who gets the moolah. The longer it takes, the more the pot shrinks, ticking away like the seconds on "24" until it's nothing more than parking validation.
Does anyone else see the stupidity here? The desperation, the futility? And I'm not talking about my Blog.
Are we that hard up for entertainment, we have to resort to a bunch of greedy fucks strangling each other on national television screaming, "Give me the money"?
What's next "The Fearless, Survivor, Amazing Racing, Fat, Wife-swapping, Strange-Nanny-Loving, Sureal Life Bachelor?"
Well, I won’t be watching "Unanimous," and listening to a bunch of sniveling idiots.
"Oh give me the money. I have cancer."
"No give me the....I'm sorry I have short term memory loss. What was it you were supposed to give me?"
"No give me the money I lost my leg on an ice-flow to a hostile penguin. See I have a prosthetic leg."
Then someone beats him to death with it.
Nope not for me. Won't give it the time of day. I don’t need to. I’ll just wait for Uncle Willie to pass on and watch the hornets nest of relatives squabble over the inheritance with kitchen utensils until only one is left standing.
Now that’s entertainment value.
Hey, who do I contact at the networks about this?
"A coffin filled with cash.....thirty angry and grieving relatives....one butter knife.....who will win?.......The Inheritance!"
Last night I saw an ad for a new reality television program called "Unanimous". The premiss is they lock twelve people in a bunker underground. Only one of which will win a prize pool starting at 1.5 million.
The catch is, they all have to unanimously agree who gets the moolah. The longer it takes, the more the pot shrinks, ticking away like the seconds on "24" until it's nothing more than parking validation.
Does anyone else see the stupidity here? The desperation, the futility? And I'm not talking about my Blog.
Are we that hard up for entertainment, we have to resort to a bunch of greedy fucks strangling each other on national television screaming, "Give me the money"?
What's next "The Fearless, Survivor, Amazing Racing, Fat, Wife-swapping, Strange-Nanny-Loving, Sureal Life Bachelor?"
Well, I won’t be watching "Unanimous," and listening to a bunch of sniveling idiots.
"Oh give me the money. I have cancer."
"No give me the....I'm sorry I have short term memory loss. What was it you were supposed to give me?"
"No give me the money I lost my leg on an ice-flow to a hostile penguin. See I have a prosthetic leg."
Then someone beats him to death with it.
Nope not for me. Won't give it the time of day. I don’t need to. I’ll just wait for Uncle Willie to pass on and watch the hornets nest of relatives squabble over the inheritance with kitchen utensils until only one is left standing.
Now that’s entertainment value.
Hey, who do I contact at the networks about this?
"A coffin filled with cash.....thirty angry and grieving relatives....one butter knife.....who will win?.......The Inheritance!"
Monday, March 13, 2006
CNM #10
It amazes me. Chuck is like 65 yet he doesn't look a day over 53. Remarkable.....simply remarkable.
Today on Chuck Norris Monday, or as the Scots would say, "Norrrrrrris," I have a little one on one. Some hoops to send you into March Madness. Except neither of these guys would be playing in the final four. Jimmy Kimmel vs Eminem.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
That's breakfast
Lyrics: Barlow/Malveen
Music: The Oral Blondes
That's Breakfast
Fried eggs in the morning sun
Bacon sizzles til it’s damn near done
Toast poppin' on the window sill
Greasy home fries on electric grill
That’s breakfast, Yeah!
That’s breakfast
Coffee brewing in the grease-stained pot
I burn my fingers cause it’s frickin hot
A slab of ham will make me happy too
Good thing I’m a Gentile and I’m not a Jew
That’s breakfast, Woah!
That’s breakfast
Good God that's breakfast
Yup! That's breakfast
Don’t need no quiche, with leafy salad sides
No whole grain cereals that are fortified
Don’t need no green slaw that’s Kentucky Fried.
I ate it once and then I damn near died.
Oh yeah, I need breakfast
I’m salivating when the morning’s near
I’ll Replace my OJ with a pint of beer
Butter melting right before my eyes
Just like cock sausage into a Hooker’s thighs
That's breakfast, yeah
That's breakfast
Somebody stop me
That's breakfast, Good God
That's breakfast
For more on The Oral Blondes go here.
Music: The Oral Blondes
That's Breakfast
Fried eggs in the morning sun
Bacon sizzles til it’s damn near done
Toast poppin' on the window sill
Greasy home fries on electric grill
That’s breakfast, Yeah!
That’s breakfast
Coffee brewing in the grease-stained pot
I burn my fingers cause it’s frickin hot
A slab of ham will make me happy too
Good thing I’m a Gentile and I’m not a Jew
That’s breakfast, Woah!
That’s breakfast
Good God that's breakfast
Yup! That's breakfast
Don’t need no quiche, with leafy salad sides
No whole grain cereals that are fortified
Don’t need no green slaw that’s Kentucky Fried.
I ate it once and then I damn near died.
Oh yeah, I need breakfast
I’m salivating when the morning’s near
I’ll Replace my OJ with a pint of beer
Butter melting right before my eyes
Just like cock sausage into a Hooker’s thighs
That's breakfast, yeah
That's breakfast
Somebody stop me
That's breakfast, Good God
That's breakfast
For more on The Oral Blondes go here.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Eat my Blog
I haven't had much time over the last few days, and today is no different. In fact, soon I'll be moving back to a weekend Blog only, to the collective cheers or jeers, depending on which side of the fence you sit.
Today I have a few links for you to visit. Or perhaps time is an issue for you as well and you've already switched to another site?.......Hello......hello......Am I talking to myself?
Anyhoo, the following are links I just don't have time to comment on, other than to say I don't have time to comment on them, and type it all out.
Actually, they've been sitting around for a while and had been banished to the Island of lost Blogs until a day, like today, where I don't have time to comment on anything, except as I said before, to express I don't have the time to comment.
Those who can't do, teach
Masturbation 101
Winston, that cool refreshing smoke
Today I have a few links for you to visit. Or perhaps time is an issue for you as well and you've already switched to another site?.......Hello......hello......Am I talking to myself?
Anyhoo, the following are links I just don't have time to comment on, other than to say I don't have time to comment on them, and type it all out.
Actually, they've been sitting around for a while and had been banished to the Island of lost Blogs until a day, like today, where I don't have time to comment on anything, except as I said before, to express I don't have the time to comment.
Those who can't do, teach
Masturbation 101
Winston, that cool refreshing smoke
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Sink or Schwim
The Mayor has Sargon the Magnificent to predict your astrological future. I on the other hand, have to settle for David Schwimmer, which means you have to settle for David Schwimmer. How bad could it be? Go find out.
I know what you're saying. "Is this the best you can do for a post?"
Hey, cut me some slack. It's 10:45, I'm just getting home and instead of spending time with GIGC, I'm Blogging for you.
I know what you're saying. "Is this the best you can do for a post?"
Hey, cut me some slack. It's 10:45, I'm just getting home and instead of spending time with GIGC, I'm Blogging for you.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
Mayor may not?
I admit in the dying moments of the Oscar Party Sunday, one final spin of the roulette wheel was made and the unfortunate victim of the outcome was the Mayor.
Yet, the Mayor failed to inform you, the sweet, kind, lovely people of Mitchieville, he himself was rewarded with 3 extra points earlier in the evening. When his number, 36 red, snagged the waiting gill of Ol’ Lady Luck, he rushed around like a madman. He went as far as to push my dear old, great, great, grandmother to the floor and scream, "In your face lady!"
You remember, don't you Mayor? It was in between the Bahamian Fire Dancers and the Filipino Concubines, or as Geddy Lee commented right before he passed out into the crab-dip, "Somewhere between the bright lights and the far unlit unknown."
For those of you who dropped advanced math: Subtract those 3 points from the Mayor’s score and he is no better than tied for the lead with the eventual winner, young, tender, fragile, adorable Larissa before she was awarded the points of a tie-breaking spin.
The Mayor would lead you to believe a conspiracy was at work, but it was nothing more than the cruel fickle hand of fate I assure you.
However, never let it be said that Strange turns his back on a friend. Family member maybe, but a friend/ cohort/ soul mate? Never!
I offer the peace pipe of forgiveness and friendship, packed with Bob Noxious’ finest. I am willing to send the Mayor 2, (count ‘em two), female midget strippers, a link of Montreal smoked sausage, a condom wrapper personally autographed by David Soul, and a fruit basket.
(the autograph is going to be the deal breaker.)
The Mayor is a great friend and I would hate to lose that. Or as they say in German,
"Ich wünsche, dass ich gewusst habe, wie Sie aufzugeben."
Yet, the Mayor failed to inform you, the sweet, kind, lovely people of Mitchieville, he himself was rewarded with 3 extra points earlier in the evening. When his number, 36 red, snagged the waiting gill of Ol’ Lady Luck, he rushed around like a madman. He went as far as to push my dear old, great, great, grandmother to the floor and scream, "In your face lady!"
You remember, don't you Mayor? It was in between the Bahamian Fire Dancers and the Filipino Concubines, or as Geddy Lee commented right before he passed out into the crab-dip, "Somewhere between the bright lights and the far unlit unknown."
For those of you who dropped advanced math: Subtract those 3 points from the Mayor’s score and he is no better than tied for the lead with the eventual winner, young, tender, fragile, adorable Larissa before she was awarded the points of a tie-breaking spin.
The Mayor would lead you to believe a conspiracy was at work, but it was nothing more than the cruel fickle hand of fate I assure you.
However, never let it be said that Strange turns his back on a friend. Family member maybe, but a friend/ cohort/ soul mate? Never!
I offer the peace pipe of forgiveness and friendship, packed with Bob Noxious’ finest. I am willing to send the Mayor 2, (count ‘em two), female midget strippers, a link of Montreal smoked sausage, a condom wrapper personally autographed by David Soul, and a fruit basket.
(the autograph is going to be the deal breaker.)
The Mayor is a great friend and I would hate to lose that. Or as they say in German,
"Ich wünsche, dass ich gewusst habe, wie Sie aufzugeben."
Monday, March 06, 2006
WSM
I know, I know...you're saying what happened to Chuck Norris Monday? Chuck's a little under the weather after last night's Oscar Party, and one too many Racist Mother Fucker Shooters. He is taking a one week hiatus. Still, as sick as Chuck is today, he still managed to utter the most intelligible phase heard all evening, "Obedogoo...blaggggh!" He also delivered a stunning roundhouse to the Mayor's solar-plexis.
However, I wouldn't dream of not posting today. So as a replacement we called in Bill Shatner to pick up the slack until Chuck is back on his feet................Denny Crane!
Also as a bonus. In true CNM fashion here is Bill vs Angie Dickinson. Quick! Avert your eyes!
Personally, I thought Kirk only had sex with green bitches.
Sunday, March 05, 2006
And on the seventh day God said....
"Let there be a show where Hollywood celebrates its own by giving out...I don't know....little gold, bald guys....yeah that's good"......and he saw....and it was too long, but that's besides the point.
The Oscars go tonight. Which is great because it gives us yet another excuse to drink and act stupid. Not that we needed a reason for either, but it helps to have something to blame the impending hangover on.
Much thanks go to the Mayor and the citizens of Mitchieville who helped with shooter names for this year's event. If you are coming to the gala, know you will be ambushed by one or more of the following shooters:
Good Night and Good Luck's- Pinko
Capote's -Lisping Prick
Crash's -Racist Mother Fucker
Munich's -Weinstein's Revenge
and
Brokeback Mountain's -Turd Herder
The Oscars go tonight. Which is great because it gives us yet another excuse to drink and act stupid. Not that we needed a reason for either, but it helps to have something to blame the impending hangover on.
Much thanks go to the Mayor and the citizens of Mitchieville who helped with shooter names for this year's event. If you are coming to the gala, know you will be ambushed by one or more of the following shooters:
Good Night and Good Luck's- Pinko
Capote's -Lisping Prick
Crash's -Racist Mother Fucker
Munich's -Weinstein's Revenge
and
Brokeback Mountain's -Turd Herder
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Capote
Philip Seymore Hoffman should win best actor for his portrayal of Truman Capote. Not only did he do an amazing job but he did it all while speaking on helium.
Helium is funny. Every actor should perform on helium. In fact, I would say Terrence Howard deserves the best actor Oscar for his role in Hustle and Flow but they wouldn’t let him use helium, and sadly he will lose. Although, there’s not too many actors who can claim they beat up Ludacris in two movies this year so Terrence at least has something to smile about.
But, back to Capote. Everytime Hoffman spoke I laughed. Everytime he touched his ear or adjusted his glasses, I laughed. Why? Because I knew he would speak soon after. God bless helium. This is a very funny movie.
I give this movie 5 I liked it's out of 5. It was the helium that put it over the top.
Friday, March 03, 2006
Munich
Steven Spielberg, he’s done it all hasn’t he? He’s entertained us, with flare and poignance in movies like "E.T." He’s astounded us with shlock like "War of the Worlds". He’s rendered the memorable "Jaws," and the forgettable, "Always".
From the provocative, "The Color Purple," to the blockbuster, (insert any of his movies except "Goonies" here), he never fails to deliver. "Munich," a movie dealing with the aftermath of the Munich crisis at the 72 Olympics where Jewish athletes were murdered, might just earn him another best director Oscar.
It would be his second and join the Oscar he received for "Schindler’s List," a movie about the Holocaust.
If he wins, you really have to wonder if Spielberg is the only Jew on the planet hoping for more shit to happen to his people. He only seems to bag these little gold suckers when he presents this type of cimema.
I found this film very intriguing, but look at the poster. If you squint and turn your head slightly to the right, doesn't it look like the guy's sitting on the toilet? I mean, he's got the gun in his hand, but it looks like he's taking a crap. He's all bent forward like he's really trying to crank one out. Gives new meaning to the phrase, "shooting the shit," doesn't it?
I give this movie 4 I liked it’s out of 5.
Tomorrow: Capote
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Crash
I really liked this movie. Crash, or as the tag line reads, "Love in the dying moments of the twentieth century".
After getting into a serious car accident, a TV director discovers an underground sub-culture of scarred car crash fetish victims and tries to use that to rejuvenate his sex life with his wife. Curious, odd, and a flawed examination of sexuality/identity.
Tremendous acting from James Spader and Holly Hunter. I thought Sandra Bullock and that Dillon guy were in this? I kept looking for them but I didn't see them. Makes me wonder why Matt Dillion gets a nod for suporting actor from a film he's barely in, but maybe he gave the Academy a little somethin-somethin'? You know like Heath and Jake did in Brokeback Mountain.
Anyway, Cronenberg has really out done himself this time. Perhaps almost as good as "A History of Violence," which he managed to put out this year as well. Wow! David Cronenberg where do you find the time to dirrect not one, but two movies in the same year and have them both considered for the little gold statuette?
I could go on and on.....what? Not the right Crash?.....This one came out in 1996 you say? But I didn't watch the other one......Who was the idiot who decided to make another movie under the same name?.... Paul Haggis?......You mean like that awful Scottish dish of oats and barley steamed in a sheep’s stomach?......Ok, now you're just fuckin' with my head.
I give it 4 I liked it's out of 5. This Crash not the other one.
Tomorrow: Munich.....don't tell me there's two fuckin' Munichs.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Brokeback Mountain
It’s only fair, since today is hump day, I review Brokeback Mountain. A movie that has come under such scrutiny and parody even at the hands of my own Blog.
This film will probably win the Oscar only because there are so many gay cowboys in Hollywood they can’t possibly lose.
First of all when I saw this movie I noticed there was a lot of sheep. Thousands of them roaming over vast expansive landscapes, which must have the cinematographer for this movie greasing up his thighs to rub an Oscar between them.
There’s also a lot of playing tent going on in this movie between the two main characters...did I mention there was a magnitude of sheep? Je-sus! Far as the eye can see. Sheep, sheep, and more sheep. And not just any sheep. Sheep that for the first time anywhere, weren’t scared to be around lonely Cowboys.
Also have to say I liked the hats. One dark the other light. (Yup no symbolism there.) "Grab your light saber Ennis and come to the dark side." And Ennis? Sounds a little too close to a certain part of the male anatomy if you ask me. But I digress, I liked the hats. Didn't care much for the sheep, but the hats were cool.
You know when I was little I wanted to be a Cowboy......not anymore.
I give this movie 2 I liked its out of 5.
Tomorrow: Crash
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)