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."

Shadows of the Past

One of the unfortunate drawbacks to having picked up so many new readers and followers over the course of the past year is that many of you were unable to bask in the glorious triumph that I celebrated at this time last year. And let me just say, that t-shirt is one of my absolute favorites. I mean, it does taste gloriously of victory and free, which are two of my favorite things in the world (right after boobs and bacon logs), so maybe the t-shirt has an unfair advantage.

Fortunately for me, my knowledge of college basketball is almost as vast as my desire to get free shit. Again this year, the concierge service ran the same contest. Again this year, I won. I am, in fact, just that fucking awesome.

I hope like hell that I won for knowing that the most points you can score on a single play is 3. That's so much better than knowing that you only get five fouls.

Last year, I chose an Indiana shirt (they are my favorite NCAA basketball team, after all). This year, I went for the alma mater, proving that someone from Notre Dame can fucking win something (hear that, football, basketball and hockey teams? I'm rubbing it in your face! Try stop being a bunch of cockfaces and put forth an effort already! And maybe suck a little less while you're at it!).

The other thing that I've proved is that, unlike Notre Dame, winning a free t-shirt is never overrated.

I swear, all I did was type the word "winner" into a Google image search!

My Apotheosis

Right after you all get done worshipping the Massive Pork Log, you can bow down to me.

I, of course, require hefty donations to support the church of me. Also, I demand sacrifices or porcine life forms. The recipe is in the previous post. And, of course, ladies, I require that all worship of my Uber Cool Nerd Godliness be done topless at least, naked if you're a true follower. Photographic (heavy on the graphic part, please) proof will be required. Often.

And if not, let the vindictive smiting begin.

And, should you happen to be, I dunno, married to me...I think you just found your Zeus character. And dinner better be on the table when I get home, lest the smiting begin anew.

Methinks the Blogosphere is Trying to Tell Me Something

I was just scratching that foot-fetish itch over at SouthernBelle's blog when I wrong something mildly amusing in the comments section about time travel and Australia and Dirty Sanchez. When I went to punch in the secret code on the word verification so I could collect my prize, this is what I saw:

Hmmm...I think that's a thinly veiled message. I think her blog...or maybe the internet as a whole...or maybe just my computer...seems to think that I'm a messed up fatso. And you know what? They're probably right.

Well, time to go polish off a package of weiners with a redi-whip chaser, and then hide under the dining room table in an attempt to keep MLB from reading my thoughts and studying my purchasing habits. And fantasize about Scarlett Johansson a bucket of green jelly and a goat.

Shout Outs

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Geography Prowess

After failing to crack the top 50% of geekitude in the last test, I figured I'd flash some serous prowess when it comes to maps and geography:

117

I ran out of time just as I started cranking through Africa (starting with South Africa/Lesotho/Swaziland), and I didn't get through much of central Asia--especially when it came to a lot of the former Soviet states whose names were too long to make for an efficient list...try spelling Azerbaijan and Tajikistan quickly while moving on to the next country in your mental atlas. It isn't easy, even for a dashingly suave geography sophisticate like myself--especially when spelling is key (for instance, I had to enter the Netherlands thrice before I was able to get the auto-checker to accept it...here's a hint...drop the "the" at the front).

So, there. If you're bored this afternoon because your boss and his boss and his boss are all out of town and you really don't feel like doing anything (like a hydrogenation), time yourself with this little quiz. Or just go back to my old post and stare at the girl dressed as Phoenix/Marvel Girl. Either way, you'll thank me for it.