Stuff

I have a bit of a dirty secret that I'm now going to share with you. For the past couple of weeks, I've been cheating on you. I know, I know. Where's the trust, eh, blogosphere? It's just that, every so often, I come across your chest a blog that is spectacular enough, I become--for the lack of a better term--infatuated. I read. And then I get bored because the author only updates once a day, yet the author drips with such a profound exceptionality that I want, nay, need more. The only way to get said fix is to dig through the archives.

This has happened recently.

People, I want you to meet Kristine. She's over there, waiting in the van. Now, originally, I caught a glimpse of her in someone's comments and thought "Holy shit! That looks like my attractive friend, Kristine! I better check this shizz out." Well, it turns out that she isn't my attractive friend Kristine. However, she's now my new attractive friend Kristine! She's smart, she's funny, she puts stuff on her kids' heads and takes pictures, she hates her asshole cats, and, like me, she is a MASTER--or will be someday soon. Unlike me, she will be a MASTER in a field where she can get a job in ten years, whereas I'll be living under a bridge, reciting the periodic table and cursing the far east.

While she's as sarcastic and foul-mouthed as they come *dreamy sigh*, apparently her former blog is even more foul-mouthed, even more sarcastic, and even funnier. Alas, it remains hidden, and since I at least pay lip service to people's desires to remain as anonymous as the internet allows, I have gone looking for it. However, I'm sure it was fantastic, like the Lord of the Rings acted out by ninjas and stuff.

Because awesome oozes from every pore on her body, she's recognized the content and character of this blog with a fabulous award. Behold, the James Frey Award!
She's right, you know. 95% of the stuff here is bullshit. The other 5% is dick jokes and Leelee Sobieski pictures.

So, join Kristine in her van. She drives it around, wanted by the government, and serving as a soldier of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find her, maybe you can hire Kristine to put shit on your kids' heads and take pictures.

Now, Gwentabulous over at Everything I Like Causes Cancer, posted a picture of her naughties yesterday. I'd say "unmentionables", but since I provided a link to the story, that pretty much supersedes "unmentioning", doesn't it?

Anyway, her challenge for today was to not tell a story revolving around shit, semen, sex or something else gross that starts with 's' (hooray alliteration!). Jesus, Gwen, you just knocked out 95% of my arsenal. Good thing I was planning on publically felating Kristine. Wait...

Gwen's challenge was to have us post pictures of our favorite sleeping shirts. I received mine rather recently. So recent, in fact, that it still carries the sweet, sweet smell of victory. Behold, the TRIVIA SHIRT!

Oh, oh, that's not the TRIVIA SHIRT you were expecting, is it? No, my friends. See, I won this shirt the other night when I went to Trivia Night at a local bar with the Comely and Buxom and Ailurophobic Boudicca and her friends from work. See, they had a three-round trivia contest (we placed third), but in between the contests were special mini contests. Do you want to know the question I answered correctly and quickly?

"What disease takes it's name from the Latin for 'bad air;?"

The answer, of course, is "malaria". I emboldened a couple of parts. Since you're here every Friday morning learning conjugations and shit, you know I'm all about the Latin. However, you probably didn't know that I'm all about the tropical diseases. It's true. I work on a "neglected disease" program at my company. I don't want to brag too much--especially since none of my compounds have done shit to the parasite--but we've pretty much taken Sleeping Sickness by the balls, swung it around the room a couple of times, kicked it in the grundle, and then, for good measure, while it's lying there on the floor, we've whipped it out and pissed right in its battered and beaten face. AWESOME!!!

Also, the person who introduced me to Yuengling, that sweet, nectarous lager from Eastern Pennsylvania, reads this blog and I wanted to taunt him with my victory. I'm expecting an email shortly that will read something like "Bastard."