Friday, October 31, 2008

Happy Halloween and Whatnot

I'm not sure if Halloween was cancelled this year due to the fact that the Phillies won the World Series, but just in case anyone out there remembers that today is Halloween and not "Phillys Parade Day,"
Happy Halloween!

This year, I will be a stealth ninja for Halloween. This really isn't much of a costume, as I'm pretty much AM a ninja, except that I use my words instead of chinese fighting stars. Trust me, nobody judo-kicks infectious diseases in the face like I do, figuratively speaking.

Brian will be going as a Reno 911 policeman, and I for one am looking forward to him wearing the short-shorts that came with the outfit. Aah....Halloween.

So everybody have fun and be safe out there tonight. And watch your backs...there might be a stealth ninja sneaking up behind you, ready to unleash her fists of fury upon you (or steal your beer, whichever comes first)

Editor's note: I am no longer a stealth ninja. I got demoted when, upon leaving Donica Sico's Halloween Party, I made a comment about how I'm capable of "disappearing into the night" and promptly fell down the stairs.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Q: What's funnier than ninjas, motorcycles, and a Chuck Norris reference? A: NOTHING

The aim of this blog is to entertain you. And since I have neither the time, energy, or creativity to entertain you today (well, I guess I have the time and energy, but inspiration is lacking), I leave you with this HILAROUS Craigslist posting of someone selling a motorcycle.

How could someone selling a motorcycle be funny, you ask? Read on, dear reader...

Motorcycle for sale:

There comes a point in every mans life where he feels the need to pass down some history or perhaps a legacy, this time is now. For the low price of $700 you too may become a bad ass. This motorcycle is not just a way of transportation, it is a way of life.

The side of the gas tank says Yamaha which loosely translates to "Kick Ass Stealth Ninja Motorcycle". I stole this motorcycle from Chuck Noris after I gave him a swift roundhouse kick to the face. I also broke off his arm and signed the title with it to my name from him so it is all legit and legally mine to sell now.

Some of the lens covers on the turn signals are broken but if you think that stops me from turning you are sadly mistaken. The first rule I learned in the Mount Tokachi Ninja Training Camp was never tell your enemy what direction you intend to go. I have found this to be a excellent creed or motto to live life by.

I will not admit to how many of the miles have been used for ninja missions however I can tell you that all of the 4693 miles are actual road miles.

There are a few rusted parts on this bike, but that only shows everybody how bad ass you are and that if they were to question you they could be killed instantly. Most of the parts could be replaced with non rusty parts if you wanted to blend in to the common mortal and practice stealth skills by hiding in plain sight.

This motorcycle has 4 speeds in the transmission and all of them are completely capable of causing instant death. I have known the common man to reach speeds of 70 mph I will not comment on the top speed that a skilled ninja rider may accomplish, this you shall find on your own.

The gas cap on this motorcycle is locked by key, that tells possible gas thief's to screw off unless they are prepared to deal with a ninja ass kicking right to the face.

If you are still uncertain of how bad ass this actually is you wont need to look further than the front fender complete with scull and cross bones, the graphics tell sissy gutless men to take off or be prepared for punches of lightning to pour down upon them.

If you email me asking about being "firm" on the price I will tell you right now that I am NOT. $700 is only my starting price, you may want to pay me more after you would see it in person. If you think you can email me and ask me to sell if for less you could just as well save me the effort and punch yourself in the balls because that is what I might do and you are most likely a sissy and not worthy of this motorcycle.

If you are from Africa and try to scam me do not waste my time because I will swim across the ocean and find you in your dirty hut and judo chop your face with an ultimate punch right to the face.

I may email you more pictures if you need to see more. Ninja fighting weapons are not included.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Villain, Thy Name is Apple

This apple just ruined my day:

Well, I guess I could say that my immune system just ruined my day, but I’d rather blame the apple. Lord knows, if I start “talking smack” about my immune system, it’ll probably avenge itself by giving me a nasty upper respiratory infection or something. So, yeah, the above apple just ruined my day. All because I tried to eat it. All because I thought I had outgrown my apple allergy, just as I have outgrown practically every other food allergy I had as a child. All because I was trying to be healthy and I was at Panera and when they asked me if I would like chips or an apple, I said to myself, “self, let’s pull our shit together and try eating something healthy for a change.” Myself agreed. We purchased the apple. We ate the apple (yes, I now refer to myself and I as “we”)

Allergic pandemonium ensues.

Honestly, the first few bites were awesome, but then again, I hadn’t bitten into an apple in, like, 10 years, so it was going to be good regardless of the outcome. So I was crunching and smacking and smiling…when my body revolted. “Son of a…”
I slowly put the apple down and waited while tons of immunoglobulins and whatnot wreaked havoc on my system.

Below is an artist’s rendition of the alleged "apple":

And here's where the "apple" ended up:

So I guess its back to my non-apple lifestyle. What a stupid allergy. But hey, it could be worse – I could be allergic to peanuts, and then I wouldn’t be able to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And then I’d have no reason to live.

Peanut, anyone?

Monday, October 13, 2008

Coconut Ass

My car smells bad.

It's not really surprising since I spent most of my summer hiking and camping and riding horses and working out. Through these activities, I've gathered a rather unpleasant array of scents including (but not limited too) horse manure, pesticide, sweat, smoke, slim jims, old socks, and antibacterial spray. Add to this certain odd grouping of mothballs (thanks for the tablecloths, grandma), and wet/dry dog (Jericho loves a good car ride), and you've got a malodorous recipe for disaster.

I've decided I can live with the fact that my car will never be shiny, dentless, or scratch free. I've learned to live with the squeaking of the glove compartment when I drive over rough terrain, and the fact that the headlight on the left will always be brighter than the headlight on the right. I've learned to live with a lot when it comes to my POS car. But this pretty bad. I think the smell is even offending the dog, which is never a good sign.
There's only one prescription for this problem and it begins with "Yankee Candle" (hey, why go to all the trouble of cleaning out my car when a quick fix is just a "Mcintosh apple" or "Warm brown sugar" away?). After much perusing, I settle on "Coconut bay." Not particularly festive, considering the season, but it comes in a handy-dandy 3-pack, and I can't resist a good bargain.


Out to my car to install my little tropical-island-in-a-plastic-wrapper. I breath in. I smile. mmmm...coconut....
Problem solved!

Cut to 12 hours later when I hop in my car to go to work. I sit down. I breath in. I....don' Instead of masking the scents in my car, my Yankee Candle air freshener has decided to simply mingle with them. My glorious coconut scent has gone slumming, and is hanging out with the slim jims and pesticide smells. Now I smell mothballs and old socks and sweat and horse manure....AND coconut.

My car smells like coconut ass. *sigh


Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Is That Blind Person Seriously About to Walk Into the Street?!?

It's been a weird day.

My boss called me in to her office to talk about one project or another. There's nothing weird about that - she often calls me in to give me direction on an upcoming project. And, like always, she got off topic and started talking about other work-related things. Unfortunately, this is when I usually start zoning out. It's nothing against my boss. I love her dearly, and I am happy to lend a sympathetic ear for her to vent about this or that. In fact, I consider it a critical component of my job, as my manager is one of the best I've ever had, and her quitting would be a catastrophe of massive proportions. So, I hold a "wide open door" policy with regards to her need to get frustrations off of her chest.

However, these lamentations rarely hold my attention as they should, and I often find my eyes wandering to the windows, which span two of her four office walls. Being on the second floor of a corner building, there's usually lots to look at: emergency vehicles speeding by, cars lined up waiting for geese to lazily make their way across the streets, and, if you're lucky, a car pulled over by a young, bored, and therefore jerk-face Voorhees cop.

But on this particular day, I saw something a bit more interesting. A blind person (or should I say "visually challenged person"? What's the PC term here?) was making his way down the sidewalk. I guess there's nothing that strange about seeing a blind person walking, unattended, down a sidewalk, but something was different about this individual. It took me a moment to realize that the vision was so strange because the person was...quite frankly...AWFUL at using his cane to guide himself. While I truly marvel at blind people's ability to use a simple telescoping stick to determine exactly where they are in their environment (seriously, nothing but respect), I guess I never really considered the learning curve involved in the utility of this apparatus. I could only assume this person was a novice cane-user by the way he hesitatingly made his way down the sidewalk. Cane swinging in front of him, he slowly listed to the right. I clearly saw his cane make contact with the grass lining the sidewalk, but I guess my sense of vision was better than his sense of touch, because he took two complete steps into the grass before he stopped, probed his footing, and redirected himself back to the concrete walkway. Not long after that he began listing to the left. The cane caught on the edge where the curb met the sidewalk, skipping into mid air. Undeterred, the blind man continued on his course towards the drop-off to the street, and I found myself twisting my body to the right, willing him away from the disasterous path he had chosen. As luck would have it, he placed a foot half on, half off of the curb, and, realizing the situation, again repositioned himself.

At this point, anything my boss was saying was lost to this horror scene unfolding before me. Why was this obviously inexperienced blind person wandering unassisted? I considered the possible situations -that he was drunk, mentally retarded, or faking me out for the sake of some hidden-camera show. Regardless of the explanation, I was held completely captive. It was like seeing someone tied to the railroad tracks, watching a train approach, helpless to interfere. The man was fast running out of sidewalk, approaching a busy rode of two-lane traffic, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was not quite "road-ready," as it were. I must have begun to cringe, because I noticed a silence in the room, and found my boss looking at me with the most bewildered look on her face. I explained the situation, and she turned. This guy now had two captive audience members, and was a few feet away from his doom. As we considered the possibility of getting outside and warning this man of his failed trajectory before it was too was suddenly too late. We cringed and "aah"ed and "ooh"ed as his final step missed the curb completely and dropped onto the road. I covered my face. It was surly the end of him!!!!

And then...miraculously, he backtracked and was safely on the curb. He must have finally felt and heard the whoosh of the traffic and came to his senses (all 4 of them. lol. okay, not funny. but kind of). He was Alive! He was Safe! We cheered and clutched our chests and conjectured on what would have happened had he continued on his path. We checked on our friend a moment later and found him shuffing along the path, veering haphazardly, back from whence he came. I'd like to think that he made his way back home safely, without incident. But I'll admit that my confidence in this man's ability to navigate is all but shattered, and I have serious concerns regarding his current whereabouts. I'm having images of him alone, in the wilds (of Voorhees), at night, hopelessly lost and wandering, wolves (dangeous Voorhees wolves) on his tail and closing in for the kill.

Okay, that's probably not the case, but if I hear emergency vehicles gathering somewhere on Laurel road, I get the feeling I'm going to know the reason.

Like I said, it's been a weird day.