Speed Dreamons

I had a dream a couple of nights ago that bothered me. I think it bothered me for two reasons: the obvious one, and because it was the fastest nightmare ever.

Here's some background. A few days ago, I heard something absolutely horrible. A cousin of mine just moved into her new house. She had just moved her stuff in, and was going to move her kids in the next day. She settled down to sleep, and woke up in the middle of the night on fire! She jumped out the second storey window, broke her leg, but got out. She got second and third-degree burns to 80% of her body. She's now in a burn hospital in a medically-induced coma in critical but stable condition. She's basically going to need a new skin. Her chances of survival have gone up from 20% to 50%, but they're still not good. Nobody knows what caused the fire, there's an investigation on. But you can understand I think about her a lot.

The other night, I was sleeping, dreaming nothing in particular, when out of the silence of indiscriminant dreaming, my mind conjured the sound of spraying of a chemical of some sort, then a mail voice said, "Hi." and then there was a click, like a lighter, followed by fire, fire everywhere, fire engulfing me. then it was over, just like that.

An evil part of me had wondered if one of her less than stellar exes had done this to her. Logically I know it's probably impossible, but I guess that dream was living out that evil part. I don't ever want to have a nightmare like that again.

Wacky Random November Thoughts

I had some random thoughts, so figured I should heave them up here in no particular order.

Although you'd never know it from today's weather, which I want to see stay as long as possible, that bastard old man known as winter is going to show up and I'm not looking forward to it. When things get icy, I really need good traction on my boots, especially now that I walk faster than I did before. Even when I walk slow, I find having the momentum of a dog contributing to my own momentum is enough to have me fall on ice if I don't have a good grip. Trix has never been one to get in front of me and break my fall, probably because she's so tiny. So, I found these things called Yak Trax. Well, my parents found them, but what's the difference. They have rubber bands that you slip around your shoes, so the soles of your shoes get covered in these little spiky teeth that really grab a hold of ice. Hell, they do such a good job of grabbing ice that half the time I don't even know it's there. People will say "Watch it, it's really icy!" and I'll just be walking around like normal.

But my problem is I break them. The springy teeth start to hang at funny angles and catch on stuff. I'm going to try and be uber diligent about taking them off as soon as I get inside and not walking on carpet with them on my boots. I know it's dangerous to walk on tile floors with them on because you'll go flying. But anyway, the point is I've broken two sets, and they're expensive little bastards, so I want to make them last as long as possible.

As winter approaches, I went into a store here that sells them, and here's where my random thought comes in. I told them I needed extra small yak trax because I have, well, extra small feet. they said they would order them in. I got a call a week later. The woman says, "Hi, we have some Yak Trax in, but they're in the small size, not the extra small. Could you take those?" I pause for a second, bewildered. I tell her that since small yak trax wouldn't fit my shoes, then no, I couldn't take them.

But this isn't the first time people have tried to sell me ice-grippers that were too big. Once, all they had were medium and large sizes. I mean, these things would go for a mile in front of my boots! I'd trip over them instead of slipping on ice! but people were shocked that I didn't want to buy them anyway. What kind of flawed logic would tell a person that someone would even think of using something that was too big for them? Do they think adult feet have the capacity to grow? that would be like selling someone giant boots when they take a size 6. Who would say, "Oh, my size isn't in, but I'll take these bigger ones anyway."? I just don't get it.

Another thing I don't get are some commercials. there was one for life insurance, and the ad closed with the words "life is too precious not to protect." Hmm. Last time I checked, life insurance didn't protect your life. that slogan belongs in an ad for a first-aid course, or for something that could, well, save your life. Life insurance just cleans up the financial mess after you die. At least insurance for your car will help you fix it if it gets crunched, insurance on the contents of your house will help you replace stuff if it gets destroyed. Life insurance won't replace your life. What a strange term anyway.

Another ad that left my head spinning was one for a birth control method called Mirena. It's this thing that the doctor puts inside the uterus that delivers hormones directly to it. But the puzzling part of the commercial was the part where they say who should use Mirena. "Candidates for Mirena have had a child, are in a stable relationship, and have no risk or history of ectopic pregnancy or Pelvic Inflamatory Disease," it says. I get the part about Pelvic Inflamatory Disease, and I figured out the stable relationship part. They just want neither the woman nor her significant other to be sleeping around, because I get the sense that this thing somehow leaves you more prone to catching an infection, so they want to minimize the risk. But what's with the "have had a child" part? they never explain that. I think I've thought about this way, way, way too much.

The brain is a funny beast. I was looking at the many and varied ways people have gotten here, and one of them was a search which has scrolled away, but the words they looked for were "Frank Valeriot swearing in ceremony." Now, how did you take those words? I looked at that and thought, "What ceremony? Why was he so mad that he swore? Is there a video?" Looking at the google page where that led, I soon realized what should have been obvious. The person was searching for the ceremony in which Frank Valeriot was sworn in. He's a politician, after all. that should have been the logical place where my brain went. but oh no, it didn't. Am I alone in this?

Back in August, I mentioned that Trixie will lick the hell out of us in a particular way when one of us is sick. Well, the other day, she started licking Steve in that way, and he wasn't sick. the next day, he woke up with one hell of a cold! Ok, Trix, are you psychic now?

And that's about it for the random thought department. I'm definitely going to try and get out and enjoy today's weather. I feel I have to, since the horrid stuff is on its way, and it's just a matter of time before it's here.

Olympic Village

Here comes the joke you're all going to hate me for today. It might not be the only one either, I've got a fair bit of mail to look at.

Three guys were trying to sneak into the Olympic Village to scoop souvenirs and autographs. The first says, "Let's watch the registration table to see if there's a crack in the security system that we can utilize to scam our way in."

Immediately, a burly athlete walks up to the table and states, "Angus MacPherson.  Scotland.  Shot-put."  He opens his gym bag to display a shot-put to the registration attendant.

The attendant says, "Very good, Mr. MacPherson.  Here is your packet of registration materials, complete with hotel keys, passes to all Olympic events, meal tickets, and other information."

The first guy gets inspired and grabs a small tree sapling. He strips off the limbs and roots, walks up to the registration table and states: "Chuck Wagon.  Canada.  Javelin."

The attendant says, "Very good, Mr. Wagon.  Here is your packet of registration materials, hotel keys, passes, meal tickets, and so forth.  Good luck!"

The second guy grabs a street utility manhole cover, walks up to the registration table and states: "Dusty Rhodes.  Australia. Discus."

The attendant says, "Terrific, Mr. Rhodes.  Here is your packet of registration materials, hotel keys, a full set of passes, and meal tickets.  Enjoy yourself."

The third guy, a simpleton from the hills of Vermont, walks proudly up to the table with a roll of barbed wire under his arm and states: "Foster Bean. Vermont. Fencing."

It's Over

As of 11:00pm ET, the new President of the United States of America is Barack Obama.

What's Up With this?

Here's a puzzler. If a police officer says "What's up?" to you, should it be considered the beginning of an interrogation, and should you be read your rights?

I can see both sides. I think it could mean "What's up with you?" or "What's up in this spot where we stand?" What do you guys think? I think it all depends on context, and only the people on the scene would ever know which "what's up" was intended by the officer.

either way, the image of lawyers saying "What's up?" to judges as the opening statement in court is a funny one.

Citizens Of the Planet Earth, Vote!

Here's a message for anyone who didn't bother to vote. I'm not talking about people who made aconscious decision not to vote because they couldn't support anyone. I'm talking about the ones who just think they don't know enough, or they didn't have time, bla bla bla. Astronauts can do it from space for Christ's sake. What possible excuse could anyone down here have?

NFL Predicts Obama

Well, if you're a supersticious Democrat than I guess you can not even bother throwing on the News tonight to see who won the election.

Every election since 1960 has had a very odd twist to it. If in their last game before the election - the Washington Redskins win - it means the incumbant party wins. If they lose - then the challenger wins.

Last night the Pittsburgh Steelers defeated the 'Skins and, I guess, put the final nail in John McCain's casket.

All that said, I'm not supersticious so I'll be tuned in tongiht to see. The poles have started to close in a couple of areas so extremely early numbers have started to come in and they are very, very close. Looks like it could be a late night.

That's More Like It

I'm sure any of you who have seen it are needing something to cleanse yourselves of theunbridled awfulnessto which you were subjected a few minutes ago. And if you're still working your way down to that post, trust me, you're gonna in a minute. In fact, click the link above and then finish reading this. Really, it's the only way you'll make it through.

While I was off visiting family last week, my mom happened to mention that Darius Rucker (the Hootie and the Blowfish guy) had made a country album. That's really no surprise since Hootie was almost a country band to start with, and a pretty damn good one I might add. So since I hadn't heard his first single yet, one of my missions when I had some time was to hunt it down and listen to it. Well, I just did, and it's fine stuff. It sounds like Hootie and the Blowfish would sound if they recorded something and said "hey world, this is a country song." It honestly wouldn't be out of place on any of the band's albums, which makes me wonder if some of their older stuff might be re-released to country radio at some point. It probably won't, but much stranger things have happened in music before. Shit, the Monster Mash was a number 1 song at least twice for crying out loud, so an attempt at giving some stuff that's actually good a second life would be worth a try.

Darius Rucker - Don't Think I Don't Think About It

Yeah They Can Edit Out The Smart People, But Still...

A TV station in Milwaukee sent a reporter out to the mall to ask average Americans questions from the United States citizenship test. Since you're reading about this on the Vomet Comet, I bet you know how it went. That's right, everybody knew every answer and it was concluded that the country is in good hands...Or maybe not so much.

This stuff never fails to amuse me, but at the same time it depresses me every time I realize that their votes count just as much as mine do...provided they can find their way to the booth and remember how to write an X that is.

Edit: For some reason I can't link directly to the video so you'll have to click it yourself. For the benefit of blind people who these sites aren't designed for, it's the link that says video high. It's above the heading where the story begins, which is kind of a stupid place to put it so I thought I'd better mention that.

That Was Dumb!

Blame this one on Holly Alonzo, producer of that pile of cow pucky as Ann so aptly called it.

Apparently, she found a horrible song, a song that makes me sad that Hank Williams Junior produced it. It appears that he did, which sucks, since I just watched a biography of him and he seemed pretty cool. But then he went and unleashed this horrid pile of something worse than cow pucky on us. Hank, why did you have to take an awesome song and turn it into...that? First of all, there are so many claims in there that are just wrong. Second, can I slap you repeatedly for the following line?

"How can she be so smart and savvy
such a hey good-lookin' dish?"

Hell, can every woman just line up and wack you again and again and again?

Good lord. No, just...no. It was a good song. why'd he have to go kill it?

Here's What Happens When Imbeciles Write Policy

Thisis the finest example of what happens when nobody stops and says hey wait a minute that I've seen in quite some time.

A proposed amendment to the state constitution of Colorado aimed at essentially killing abortion rights is so poorly thought out that it could potentially make murderers out of anybody who tries and fails to carry a pregnancy to term.

Philosophers may debate when human life begins, but scientists are unanimous on the subject of when pregnancy begins: it's when a fertilized egg is implanted in the uterus.

But the proposed Amendment 48 specifies that the egg be considered a "person" in the eyes of the law even before it is implanted in the uterus. That means, effectively, that those forms of birth control that prevent such implantation would be classified as homicide under the proposal.

Even without the use of drugs, many eggs just naturally fail to implant in the uterus. Likewise, many eggs are implanted only to result in a miscarriage
in the early days or weeks of pregnancy — often before the woman is even aware she is pregnant. Should a woman who suffers a miscarriage be charged with negligent homicide because she failed to protect a fertilized egg she may not have even known she carried? Should a man who fertilized an egg be entitled to file a civil lawsuit against a woman who miscarries, charging her with the wrongful death of his week-old fertilized egg?

What about women who have difficulty conceiving and try in vitro fertilization. Typically, a number of fertilized embryos are created and frozen. Once pregnancy occurs, the superfluous embryos are often discarded. But under the Colorado "eggs are people" law, that would be murder.

That pretty much says it all right there. There's nothing I could add besides the standard what the Christ were these handi-tards thinking, but even that wouldn't apply here because it's obvious that nobody who supports this garbage has given it any thought at all. They're simply letting their misguided beliefs lead the way and letting the rest of us deal with the consequences.

Woe, This Guy's Nuts!

Uh, um, er, remember our recent old buddy Daniel Cunningham? Ya know, the delicensed chiropractor/landlord who thought it would be cool to turn his tenants into guinea pigs? Well, it appears that he's crazy as a loon! Yup, there's no other way to put it. According to him, the laws to prevent the illegal injection of who knows what into his tenants were created by aliens who are controling the media and eating people down below. Yup, sure, ok there buddy. How about you take the socks off your hands and come with the men in white coats there, Danny boy?

A Strangely-Tagged Picture Is Worth A Thousand Levels Of Confusion

Ok, I was reading this story, and came across a picture, which was labeled as "stressed woman."

This label made me so curious. How stressed does she look? Are we talking tear your hair out stressed, or sort of frowning stressed, or going to have an aneurysm real soon stressed? What kind of stressed are we talkin' here. Or am I going to be thoroughly disappointed? Help me out here. I'm morbidly curious!

Friggin' Weird

Hello!

So that's pretty odd. For most of last week I was unable to log on to the site, or the blogger site which allows us to post. I tried several times over the course of the week and kept getting that "This page cannot be displayed" thing which was getting fairly irritating, since I believed that the site could, in fact, be displayed. So it was to my surprise this afternoon when I tried to get on and it worked with no issues, whatsoever. Oh well.

Isn't "whatsoever" a weird word, when you think about it? I mean break it down in your head and then try to explain to yourself what it means. It makes no sense, whatsoever.

Hallowe'en was good. I ended up going as a Ceiling Fan. There are two ways to interpret that and if you're currently thinking to yourself "wow that's lame" than you've got it correct. If you're wondering how I walked around in a giant ceiling fan costume or are thinking "did he spin at all during the night?" then you are way off and should probably rip out a pube or two as punishment. Go ahead. I'll wait.

Done whiping the tears from your eyes? Good. We all got costumed up at my friend's place and headed off to the party which was a kegger. It was a blast. Some really funny costumes and got to see some friends that I hadn't seen in quite a while. So, all in all, it was a great party. I guess my costume achieved my goal. I had reactions that, in actuality, ranged from some guy telling me I had the best costume there to another guy muttering that I was a fucking moron. So we'll peg it somewhere in the middle and call it a success.

The Leafs are still impressing. The game Saturday was something to behold. The Leafs were dead in the water until the 10 minute mark of the third when they exploded for 5 goals and beat the Rangers 5-2. Sunday was almost an exact flip of luck. They came out flying and ended up falling flat, blowing a lead and losing 6-4 to Carolina. So you call it a draw this weekend as they should have beat Carolina and should have lost to the Rangers.

That's all for now.

Searching...for A Place To Hurl

02 Nov, Sun, 23:53:26
Google:
can i get an std from eating shit

Why on earth do you want to know? Did you eat shit? Why? *gag*.

Ooo! Poetry Is So Dangerous!

Yee ha, let's just keep hammering the UK. Sounds like jolly good fun.

There's a pub in Britain who hosts a poetry group. But because they don't have a license for spoken word entertainment, only singing, the poets must go. Apparently, this is because every license has its own safety concerns. Come on! How many safety concerns are there associated with a bunch of folks reading poetry? this licensing bureaucrat dude mmust have changed jobs from inspecting kiwi fruit.

What's The Latin For "That's Stupid?"

Let's pick on the UK some more.

Damn it! I used to think the Plain English Campaign people were cool. Now, I'm not so sure. Bournemouth Council has decided to ban abunch of latin phrases because they're apparently too complicated for your average Joe, they sound elitist and immigrants might find them confusing. They've come up with wordier, dumber-sounding alternatives, and the Plain English campaign people agree with them! Listen, guys, if you're worried about confusing immigrants, we'll have to change the entire English language. It's not an easy language to learn. At least you can google these phrases and figure them out.

We really try to avoid learning anything new anymore, don't we? What happened to expanding our vocabulary?

Whoever Decided This Was A Good Idea Should Get The Boot

Yup, Britain's gone nuts. Lambeth Council has come up with a new way to deal with badly-behaved kids. Give 'em a foot-massage!

Because they read somewhere that reflexology claims to relieve aggression among other things, they've hired reflexologists to come in and rub the feet of bad kids.

I know if I were a kid in school, I'd be pissed that all the ones who are causing trouble get perks and I don't get anything extra. Maybe I'd start acting like a tool so I could get a massage too.

Tasey Crazy

Since I can't seem to think of anything else to blog, and this made me laugh, I figured I'd post this little emailed tale of...woe? It's more like a tale of ouch.

Pocket Taser Stun Gun, a great gift for the wife. A guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Taser for their anniversary submitted this:

Last weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety....??

WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home.

I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing!

I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. AWESOME!!!

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of her microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right?

There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target.

I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and taser in another.

The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.

All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5 inches long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, 'no possible way!'

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best..?

I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as to say, 'don't do it dip shit,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for the heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and . . . HOLY MOTHER OF GOD . . WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION . . . WHAT THE HELL!!!

I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs!!

The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.

Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor. A three second burst would be considered conservative!

SON-OF-A-BITCH, THAT HURT LIKE HELL!!!

A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching.

My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I had no control over the drooling.

Apparently I shit myself, but was too numb to know for sure and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head which I believe came from my hair.

I'm still looking for my nuts and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!!

P. S. My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it!

Put YourTeeth In Backwards And Chew Yourself Out!

Yikes! Louise Deeringer and Guy Dugas sound like quite the pair. They got into an insane fight over Louise's false teeth, so much so that police were called and they're both in jail now. I love the term "flying lessons" and the idea that she stabbed the bathroom door and threatened to kill the dude if he didn't tell her where her teeth were. And how the hell did they end up behind a TV stand? And quelle surprise, this happened in a trailer.