I decided a while back to let a couple of my toenails grow without ever cutting them. I've been curious how long they'll actually grow if simply left alone. I blame this partly on some Ripley's tv show I saw where they had this freakish woman with huge nails that she had to oil daily so they wouldn't snap and break off. So far, mine are still pretty puny by those standards, but semi-freakish by normal toenail standards. I think it's mostly the fact that all the others nearby are trimmed so they look big by comparison. My family thinks I'm insane but it seems like a nice, low impact hobby to me. I mean, it's not like I've named the toenails or anything. That might be a bit too far. Hmmmm. Maybe I'll have a contest to name them one of these days. If they survive.

Is it wrong that one of the main reasons I don't want there to be intelligent extra-terrestrial life is because I don't have to have to learn a third language? I figure if we were ever contacted by aliens and got along, learning their language would probably be a pretty popular and necessary thing. I hate learning new languages. Maybe I'll get lucky and aliens will speak and use English.

Here I am, all comfy and lying in bed all snug amongst blankets and pillows. All of a sudden, I have to pee. I hate that. I hate it because I know that it's going to take a good chunk of time to get settled again with the laptop balanced just right and all the pillows situated just so. I especially hate it because I have no clue if I really really need to pee or my bladder is just playing silly buggers with me. Now, I don't mind having to go to the bathroom when I empty a bladder full to bursting like a gallon jug. There are times though where I get the urge to pee and then find it was much ado about nothing. It makes me wonder if the equivalent of the gas gauge that keeps track of these things has a malfunction every once and a while. Maybe it's because of the fan. I remember reading that your bladder shrinks in the cold after all.

So, to pee or not to pee? Maybe if I just ignore it, it'll go away. There are times I think that having a catheter might be fun. I mean, insertion sounds like crap but the idea of peeing in bed seems like it'd be a plus. I'm sure there are some old people out there who pee into their adult diapers, but that doesn't sound pleasant. Sitting in a cold and wet wrapping of your own urine just sounds downright bleh.

Hmmm. I don't think I have to go anymore. Maybe my bladder was just crank calling me for shits and giggles.

Damnit, false false alarm. Welp, a pee'ing I go.

If I ever get into a fight with a buncha guys and a little guy in pajamas just stands by watching with his arms folded, I'll know I'm fucked.

I just got this email from this woman who says she's horny and wants me to visit her in Nigeria and I just don't know what to do. I mean, my wang says 'yes, yes' but my loathing for humanity says 'no, no'. Besides, do I really want to visit Nigeria? I mean, I'm sure there is plenty of broadband access since half of the email I receive seems to come from there but what happens if I trek all that way and we're not compatible. I also seem to recall some pretty virulent and nasty shit down there from my old Human Parasitology class. I mean, it might be worth getting a giant infestation of parasitic worms if this were the one and all, but I wouldn't want to play host to a huge wriggling mess of foreign parasites just for nothing. I guess I just can't bring myself to do it. Oh, I know I'll be berating myself in the darkness of the night as I lie here all alone, thinking about what might have been. Alas, if only I had the guts.

A barnacle has the largest penis to body size ratio in the animal kingdom. A human with a similar ratio would have a penis 240 feet long and a real hard time finding pants that fit.

Ever wonder what it might be like to jerk off a blue whale?



Better stand back because it can get up to 8 feet long.

There are so many luxuries in our lives. By that, I don't mean cars or air conditioning or even the iphone. I'm thinking more about things like justice or compassion or morality. We don't really think of those as being luxuries, but it's not hard to see how they would easily be stripped away if our simple lives of leisure were taken from us. I always start thinking about such things whenever I read novels of post-apocalyptic worlds. Most recently, it was from Cormac McCarthy's The Road and now, Terry Brooks' The Elves of Cintra. In both, the characters exist in a world where society has fallen and mankind has been reduced to struggling to meet the most basic of needs. In that world, you see the many things we take for granted, abandoned because the people cannot pay the cost for them. While you might not realize it at first, there is a huge cost to be payed for any of the things I listed above. A cost payed in the sacrifice of valuable resources that could be better applied. Instead of justice or compassion or morality, the new force that guides an individual would become expedience and survival.

I sometimes think about this even in the context of our world today. Look at socialistic Europe with many of their post-modern nutjobs.. Some of whom spend their time forming committees about the rights of plants. In a world where some people struggle daily just to find enough food to survive, there are others sitting in comfy conference rooms debating the rights of broccoli. The dissonance is almost unbelievable in its starkness. The more that we have our needs met as a species, the more we sink into decadence. I can't help but wonder where the happy medium is in all of this.

It's sort of sad when a trip out to Staples and the post office feels like a grand quest where unspeakable horrors will need to be faced and is approached with the same reluctance someone would show for being the guest of honor at a Bris. Well, okay, perhaps it's not quite that bad, but still not something that's positive.

I've since fortified myself with extra drugs, which I'm still waiting around to kick in, and armed with all sorts of rigamarole like checks to be cashed and mail to be sent. To pass the time, I'm listening to a segment from This American Life and the episode seems to be sort of on point. It's about a guy who drops everything to go across the country to help his alcoholic mother and his step brother. The mother's an alcoholic who nearly killed herself by sitting on the couch for a solid month drinking and the step-brother is a hair's breadth from spending an extended period in jail. To put it plainly, both of them have screwed up their lives in a major fashion and it's up to the narrator to come in and try to put things aright. It's certainly not the narrator with whom I'm relating to right now.

It's not hard to look at my life right now and see that if it weren't for the family structure I have, I'd probably be inching slowly toward self-destruction if not there already and frolicking around like it were disneyland. I sometimes think about what my life would be like if I were living back in the middle ages and the word that sums it up is short. I probably would have been offed by some secondary infection long before now, and if that didn't get me, there's no way that I could survive on my own. I'm simply too decrepit to function in a society that would require each individual to farm a plot of land. In effect, my entire life now is subsidized by modern society, which no longer tosses away the infirm and useless. I can't say that's exactly a positive thing, even considering the fact that I'm the one who benefits.

I sometimes wonder how other people in similar situations deal with it. Do they think society owes them and what it provides is only just and fair? Do they think society doesn't provide enough? Or are they more like me who try to muddle through but can't help being dragged down by a more than lingering sense of guilt and shame. Whatever happened to survival of the fittest?

I spend way too much time on my knees.

The worst natural disaster in the world has got to be flooding. It might not kill all that many people (at least in a developed country) but the damage it causes is worse than all the others. I've been looking at a few of the CNN clips of flooding in Iowa and reading news stories about the floods in China and other places. That has convinced me that only a complete moron would ever buy a home anywhere near a river or in any basin. You can't predict flooding with any real accuracy and when it hits, there's fuck nothing you can do about it. Even sandbagging your entire house is only likely to provide minimal effect. At least with hurricanes you can board up windows and whatnot.

Really though, it's the aftereffects that are the most damaging part. There's a quote from Thomas Covenant that's stuck with me over the years. Paraphrased, it says that to really hurt a man you take something from him and then give it back to him broken. That just paints flood damage to a T in my opinion. The water damage leaves everything standing but it's now rotted and corrupted and there's a good chance you'll never be able to fix it again. At least if a Tornado picks your house up and drops it, it's just completely flattened and destroyed. It must be easier to let go of it then to know that everything still looks more or less the same on the surface but it damaged beyond repair.

I was just thinking, how in the world do people manage to cram in huge breast implants? I mean, lets say you have a person with pretty taunt skin wanting to go from a 32 A to a 36 DDD. Isn't that like trying to put 15 pounds of meat into a too small sausage casing? I'm sure that skin stretches, but it wouldn't stretch that much, right? So how do they manage to do it? Skin grafts? That seems sorta extreme to me and probably hurts like crazy on top of things. Are there actually people running around with leg skin on their boobies?

I was watching The Bucket List last night and got to thinking. If Buddhism is right and there is reincarnation, this entire life has been a fucking mulligan, and that's only if I'm lucky. Chances are, this entire existence is going to leave me in the red as far as Karma points.

Did you know that according to one linguist's research the word Pumpernickel comes from the German word "Pumpen", a German word for fart, and "Nickel", a form of the name Nicholas, a name associated with a goblin or devil. Thus, pumpernickel means the devil's fart.

I ran across a couple of similarly bizzare news stories over the past few days and it got me to thinking. First though, here are the stories:

Stockton Man Beaten -- With His Own Artificial Leg

STOCKTON, CA - Police are looking for three suspects who attacked an elderly couple early Wednesday evening and used an unusual weapon to attack them -- the man's artificial leg.

Ma Khamchai, 66, and his wife, 62 year-old Noi were walking near their Lindsay Street home when they were confronted by two women and a man who demanded Noi's purse.

Ma fought back, kicking at his attackers, but in the scuffle his artificial leg came off. The robbers then used the leg to beat the couple.

Man hurls hedgehog at teen, pays fine

WELLINGTON, New Zealand - A New Zealand man accused of assault with prickly weapon — a hedgehog — has been fined by a court and ordered to pay most of his fine to his teenage victim.

Whakatane District Court was told Thursday that William Singalargh picked up the hedgehog and threw it several yards to hit a 15-year-old boy in the North Island east coast town of Whakatane on Feb. 9.

Police told the court the creature had hit the victim in the leg, causing a large, red welt and several puncture marks. The teen did not need medical treatment.

It remained unclear whether the hedgehog was dead or alive at the time of the attack, but Senior Sgt. Bruce Jenkins said earlier that it was dead when collected as evidence.

So, if you had a choice would you rather be beaten by your own artificial leg or have a, possibly living, hedgehog hurled at you hard enough to break the skin?

Poll #1197115
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All

I would choose....

Did you know that less than one-half of one percent of Irish people have pure brown eyes?

I just found out that the British call cupcakes fairy cakes. I find the name vaguely disturbing. I can only hope that the name derives from the fact that cupcakes are usually whimsical and decorated in nice, bright colors. That's certainly better than the idea they're only made by or out of fairies.

Is it wrong that I automatically assume that any non-black person with dreads is a fucking tool?

Poll #1187007
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All

So?

By the way, the correct answer to the last question was honeydew, you rejects. Honeydew, damnit. You should have just voted the way I was voting and then you could be sure you'd be right. Just like chocodiablo did.

Watermelons are spiffy, for sure, but they just can't beat a sweet and chilled honeydew. So refreshing. So crisp. Mmmmmmmm.

Connie is once again passing me more girly stuff to sell on eBay. I never even finished getting rid of all of those Vera Bradley bags from last time. There are still a couple left that no one ended up buying. This time around I'm hawking something called 'Petunia Pickle Bottom'. When I first heard the name I thought for sure it must have something to do with the Rugrats. Instead, it turns out to be another one of those status symbol items that cost and arm and a leg and no normal person should be willing to pay for. Most of these bags are hideously ugly in my opinion, but the fact that they're status symbols seem to blind people. Take a look for yourself if you don't believe me. Most of them look like something an old woman would upholster her couch with.

I just don't get women and their endless array of purses and crap. I can only imagine that it's one of those Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus scenarios. How can you even be sure that others will recognize what you're carrying as being something of value rather than what a blind person picked out from good will? Are women trained to recognize the difference at a distance and then appropriately ooze envy or something?

This whole thing reminds me of a conversation I had ages ago about shoes. Most women I've known have dozens of pairs of the dratted things and the explaination is always that only certain shoes can go with certain outfits and so on. I've not sure I've ever intentionally looked at someone's feet to check out their footgear in my entire life. It would take a massive amount of disconnect, like wearing army boots with a prom dress, for me to take note of it. I'd like to believe that most men are the same way so the only reason to do all this is to impress other women. Why the heck would you even want to bother? Well, unless you're a lesbian or something. There just doesn't seem to be much point to it.

Oh well. I guess the upshot is that I don't really have to understand it. I just have to hope that women remain insane enough to buy this crap until I can clear my inventory. One of them already sold last night.

Poll #1182287
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All

King of Melons

( Read more... )

I think it would be spiffy to open a massage parlor named 'Happy Endings'.


Eh. I guess it's not really a surprise but I'm not the first person to think of this. Hmmm, Indianapolis, eh? I'll be down there for gencon.