Mid-week intermission

Tick...tick...tick...that's the sound of your life running out.

Mid-week intermission

Mid-week intermission

Mid-week intermission

Mid-week intermission

Hump day question of the week

Improbable movie trading cards #3

The Sunday ripper

I know the Mayor has been hard at work, trying to knock a little nutritional sense into his adoring public. Christ, he’s been like Martha frickin' Stewart minus the orange jump suit, yet, he’s forgetting one important aspect of food preparation, that he has not covered. The outdoor grill.

Look outside people! The weather is finally getting better. (I can picture someone in the Carribean reading this and wondering what the fuck I’m talking about.) I live in Canada! Sub-zero is considered beaching weather here buddy! Spring has sprung people! Rejoice, and fire up the B.B.Q.

Now, the Mayor could tell you how to do that, I have absolutely no idea. However, I do know that when I’m in God’s good graces, and find myself at such a wondrous event, I hope they are serving beer can chicken. Yum! Chicken with a beer crammed up it’s arsehole. As Marlon Brando said in Last Tango in Paris, "Get the butter."

I don’t know where I snagged the picture from but I have to give someone credit so I’ll just say...."I stole this from a hockey card...I kept tucked up under my fifty mission cap."

What are ya....chicken? 

Hard as a rock

Welcome to Rip-off Wednesday. The day where I post interesting pictures or articles obtained from others. The one day where I get to be a scavenger of the Blog community.

It has long been thought that we were visited by a superior race long ago. That they have left there mark in the Pyramids, or with the Incas, or the Stonehenge pocket watch. Some even feel that they are here among us as witnessed in the crop circles, Dick Clark’s longevity, or Donald Trump’s hair. Now archaeologists have uncovered proof that a more advanced race of super beings were here once. But I caution you to watch out for the anal probe.

Walk softly and carry a big dick 

A day late and a dollar short

I realize this is no longer Rip-off Wednesday, but I’m going to post like it is anyway. "Where the hell were you?" I know that’s what you are saying, but it will all be made clear. I know what you're thinking. It's not because of the green beer I assure you. Nor is it early signs of alzheimers. It is simply, I have not quite figured out how to tell time on my new Stonehenge pocket watch yet. You can see my dilemma. I’ve barely read the manual.

However I promise to be more attentive to Greenwich Mean Time. That is until the jump ahead in a couple of weeks to Standard time (Or is it Daylight savings? I could never figure that out.) Then I'll have to spring the trilithons forward to where the dew drops sing and the cats meow. It’s all so confusing. See you tomorrow or is it yesterday?

The Stonehenge pocketwatch 

I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll....gimme a drink Jimmy

It’s rip-off Wednesday, St. Pat’s piss-up is just around the corner, the Mayor of Mitchieville is on the mend and the smell of Irish car bombs linger in the air. Co-winky-dink? I think not!

There’s very little time left to go out and get one of these babies. I’m talking about the inflatable pub. It comes in two sizes, Large and Leprechaun, and fits neatly into your own backyard. You have your choice of whiskey, a manual "Irish for Dummies", and four burly Micks that will start a fight at your convenience. Now you can wake up at home and yell out, "Hey! Wha-happen?" instead of crying out from the unforgiving bar floor in a cocktail of sawdust, peanut shells, and regurgitated kidney pie.

Inflatable pub 

Picking the bones of one of my own

It’s Rip-off Wednesday and since the Mayor of Mitchieville is feeling a little under the weather. Actually he’s a lot under the weather. In fact, he is all catheters, projectile vomit and beeping machines. The priest has been there twice this week to administer last rites for gawdsake.

I’d thought I’d take the opportunity to wish him a speedy recovery and at the same time rip-off something from his site. A while back he had a link to something that made me howl. I couldn’t get it out of my head. It made me think and analyze and want to see it again, the same way Pulp Fiction or Seven did. It’s now been a few weeks and yet I’m still all shits and giggles when I look at it. You should too if you haven’t already. Go here and you'll be pissing out your ass in no time.

Spot the gay guy

Don't have much time today people but it is after all rip-off Wednesday which means all my work has been done for me by someone else, other than Mitchieville. Below is a pic that I have reserved for just such a day as this, when my comment time is at a minimal. So enjoy and Just talk amongst yourselves.

The guy on the right do ya think? 

Oh baby it's cold outside

I know it’s rip-off Wednesday but before I get to the meat and potatoes, the gooey creamy filling, the pearl of sensitivity behind the folds of labia majora, I must first apologize for yesterday’s blog. In the words of Comic Book Guy, "Worst Blog ever!"

I must lay blame where blame is due. I can’t just say I was tired and leave it at that. I owe you a better explanation. I owe you the truth. The truth that someone hacked in to my blog and left that awful mindless dribble when I was out working. I promise to be more vigilant in the future and see that it never happens again. I will be finished work soon and can return to the ranks of the unemployed or in other words back to being a professional Hockey player.

Now that we’ve settled the issue on with something that I found humorous, in fact, almost pleasant. Again I have no idea where I got it, (Perhaps from that blog hacker guy?), but in the hope that more favorable weather will soon be here, and our air conditioners will be sucking up the juice and taxing an already overloaded grid, I present you this.

Oh baby it's cold inside