Tuesday, January 31, 2006

The Return of...

The Mucus Monster!!

I'm fucking sick.


I'm SOOO glad that I get to take Paid Time Off of work to sit on my couch and be SICK.

Oh no, I'd MUCH rather wallow in my own misery with a sinus headache, fever, and sore throat than spend PTO on a beach in some exotic land.

I feel like shit, so *you* should feel like shit.

Wish me 'Get Better' s and 'Get Well Soon' s and then go fuck yourself.

Pitt always said it best: Have a Bad Day.

(Aren't I just lovely when I'm sick?)

Saturday, January 28, 2006

The Menu Concept

(I was going to post this on Monday, but I was at home dying on my couch...SO you get it today instead...)

I have a part-time job on the weekend. I work at a Sandwich Shop.

This Sandwich Shop has a menu, just like any restaurant.

Even though there's a menu to work off of, people still come up to the register and ask,

"Can I just tell you what I want on a sandwich?"

When we aren't busy, this isn't really a problem.

But Saturday, well, we weren't exactly slow. So when a family came in for their first time...

Cashier: Hey guys, what can we get for you?

Mother: Um, we've never been here before, can we just tell you what we want on a sandwich?

"Well, we have a menu that you can choose from and then let us know if you'd like to add or subtract from a certain sandwich."

::They glance at the menu::

"Go on boys, tell him what you want to eat."

They all order and the cashier does his best to put their orders into our format: #4, no mayo, with cheese for example. So we make their sandwiches...not five minutes later they come back.

"This is not what my sons wanted."

So we remake the sandwiches while their mother gives us all the evil eye.

Unfortunately, this happens all the time. Some think they just don't have the time to look at a menu and decide what looks good.

No, we don't have black olives. No, we don't have green peppers. No, we don't have hot sandwiches and NO WE DO NOT HAVE SOUP!!

We aren't fucking Subway. If that's what you really wanted, why didn't you go there?

There's one down the street. Please, get your dumb ass out of our store.

How fucking smart do you have to be to eat at our shop?!

Apparently smarter than what we give our customers credit for.

You can NOT see our ingrediants because you are supposed to choose a number and if you don't like tomatoes, ask us to leave them off.

It's that simple.

In fact, that's the beauty of our Sub Shop, IT'S SIMPLE. We limit your options so we can make your sandwich in less than a minute.

We have a menu for a reason. Please use it, it's not like it's hard to read, it's the 10 foot by 6 foot board on the wall.

If you refuse, then we reserve the right to abuse your food and take a long time doing it.

You've been warned.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

One Time, At The Bar...

I'm not sure how many stories begin this way, but here is one of my finest moments from the bar.

Summer 2003: that wonderful summer after I turned 21, I wasn't taking summer classes and I had a fuck-off job with easy hours.

So I drank.

Alot. (How much? I gained 25 pounds that summer! That's alot of beer...)

I was out with my Navy friend, Brant. That summer's drinking regiment was whiskey sours, followed by white russians, followed by beers.

Everything was going as planned, I even thought one of his friends was cute. I polished off 5 Whiskey Sours and a few shots, including a Jager Bomb, and then the cute friend bought me 2 White Russians.

The first was delicious, that creamy goodness after all that sour was fantastic, I sucked that one down in a few minutes. We were sitting in a booth in the basement of a bar, the cute friend was next to me on the inside of the booth, three of his friends across from us...

Then I started in on the second White Russian...I wasn't quite half-way through it when I felt the urge to yack.

Usually I have some warning of an impending yack.
Not this time.

The urge was so sudden I automatically clamped my right fist over my mouth.

But it wasn't a tight fist...

I became The Puke Sprinkler.

So it came shooting out from between my fingers, all over the table and the three people sitting across from me...

Brant came down the stairs with 2 glasses of water for me at that shining moment.

He dropped the water and grabbed me, puke all down my shirt and on my jeans and led me outta there...

As I was stumbling up the stairs I saw a look of disgusted horror on the cute friend's face as he tried to escape the puke strewn booth...

I found out later that the bathrooms were out of order in the basement that night and the unfortunate 3 hard to go behind the bar and get sprayed down...

The waitress had to squeegee the table...

I had to wash that shirt 3 times to get the smell out.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Best Weiners EVER

I mean Hot Dogs....

It was brought to my attention that I've had quite a bit of penis/crotch related posts lately...

I did not do it on purpose!

For some reason I have a hankerin' for a Chicago Style Hot Dog.

You know the one, a long, juicy Vienna Beef weiner, garnished with ketchup, mustard, tomatoes, onions, relish (the bright green kind), a pickle spear, and some peppers all nestled in a poppy seed bun.


Vienna Beef Hot Dogs come from Chicago, which was all well and good when I lived in the Chicago area.

Now I'm way the fuck out in Iowa.

Brutal Discovery: Vienna Beef Hot Dogs are NOT sold in grocery stores in Iowa.


Which makes sense, there are TONS of cows out here, not to mention 20 varieties of hot dogs.

Alas, I have to go to the nearest Dairy Queen to get one.

Dairy Queen to me, was all about ice cream and cakes before. When the hell did it become about the food?!

Ordering food at an ice cream shoppe just doesn't seem right. Cold ice cream on one side, hot fryer on the other?

But I'll do it for a Chicago Style Hot Dog. (I really have no choice, now, do I?)

GOD DAMN. Look at that weiner, all dressed up and ready for me!

OK maybe this has to do with crotches a little bit..."Weiner" is one of my favorite words! I think I really might have a problem.

Then again, can't a girl be passionate about something?

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Random Musings...

...from the lunch table at Biaggi's:

The topic was Brokeback Mountain; there were 5 men and 3 women, one woman was the only person to have seen it.

Tom, the loudest, most out-spoken, and opinionated of the group commented,

"I really don't think that this story could have happened. I don't think there are gay cowboys out in Montana. Couldn't they have used a different profession? Like gay accountants in Atlanta? "

Then the possibility of gay farmers in Iowa came up.

"Can you imagine Farmer Bob crusing down 80 and seeing Farmer Joe out in the field and decide to stop by for a little Tractor Rendez-vous?"

"Gives new meaning to the phrases, 'Hired Hands,' and 'Pulling Tassles.'"
(don't get me wrong here, I LOVE gay men...)

And, inevitably, "Homo on the Range," came up for the theme song.

Funny, someone already thought of that:

Parody of "Home on the Range"
(Higley/Kelley) Lyrics by M. Spaff Sumsion

Oh give me a show
Where the blood and guts flow
And the teens get their limbs slashed away
It's artistic stuff
Watchin' heads get blown off
But it's smut if there's cowboys that's gay

Ho - mo on the range?!
All them lib'rals and queers are deranged
So flay Jesus Christ On my widescreen it's nice
But I'll die if them cowboys are gay!
© Spaff.com 2006+

...from instant messages:

"there's a wind advisory for today.... what a surprise!"

"at least it isn't butt-ass cold. "

"when did 'butt-ass' become a synonym for 'extremely' "

"it really doesn't make sense!"

"it's an english language construct called "the double posterior" "

...from the bus stop:

Hey, LOOK!! There's a guy with a mullet!



So does that mean he's a Mull-Asian?


This picture and many, many more can be found at

Mullet Junky

It's a strange affliction, but quite entertaining for the rest of us!

Thursday, January 19, 2006

Just do her!

I was assaulted by Spam yesterday morning.

My work email usually doesn't receive Spam about drugs, services, or anything sexual in nature. I get the mundane, 'Get More Training!' and 'Refinance Your Home' type stuff.

That all changed yesterday morning when I received an email titled 'Just Do Her!' from 'Teddy':

Hi there,

Try this special product, Cialis. We have millionsof happy customers alI around the worId. You wiIl qet the perfectfeeling of being a man again!

* Save up to 80% compared to the pharmacies.
* WorIdwide shipping
* Impress your woman today!

Get it here (the typos are all theirs, I did not modify this!)

I would just LOVE to feel like a man again! Right.

My boss received a much more vulgar version:


I have always worried about the size of my penis. When I have sex, even though she says that the sex is good, I know that what she really wants is an extra inch!

I saw the advertising for More-Size on TV and was really impressed by the customers reports. The pills work by enhancing the hormone that instructs your body to fill the penis with blood. More and more blood gets pumped into the two large chambers on top of the penis, making your dick harder than ever before. The penis is very very flexible, and adapts well to the increased pressure, getting longer and harder.

The best thing is that once the hormones have been enhanced, they get used to it and you keep your enhanced size for many months after you stop taking the medication
This is the only method that is said to work other than mechanical stretching!

Pumps and creams do NOT have the same long-lasting effects.

I could tell that my penis was getting longer and heavier, but I thought that when I stopped taking them that my erection would shrink back to my original size. I was really surprised!

I have been 4.5" long since adolescence. Since I have been using this formula my penis has been 6.5" long, and my erection is nearly twice the size. Just be careful not to take too much to begin with as the skin needs time to adapt to your new improved dick!

The lengthening is permanent!

I could not believe the results of this prescription. I am back to taking them again and I'm still getting larger! My girlfriend says it is the best product I've ever bought, and she ALWAYS reminds me to take them if I should forget! (I bet she does!)

Take a peek... We know they work. There's a total guarantee with them, too.
If you are not completely satisfied with your length gain and comfort you get your money back. Every penny. No-one sends them back!

Please be aware that if your foreskin is already tight or if your erection is already too hard and causes discomfort, you should consult the advice of your doctor before taking these pills, as the extra size could cause added discomfort

Check it out

**Do men frequently have erections that are too hard and cause discomfort?**

So I found this picture of the 'Super Viagra' or Cialis:

Does anyone else think it's funny that the pill itself resembles a nut?

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

The Scrotum Harness

One of my favorite movies from the 80s is The Laybrinth, or

"Let's all try to avoid seeing David Bowie's package."

Not much can be said about The Labyrinth without mentioning Jareth's codpiece.

Being the Crotch Watcher that I am, I believe this movie might have planted the 'crotch watching seed' of interest in my young, innocent mind.

I wanted to post this yesterday but I could not, for the life of me, find a picture of it! I spent my last half-hour at work searching for a picture of David Bowie's crotch. Now THAT is productivity at its finest. (Wow, my life is rough!)

The codpiece has a long and interesting history, there are even varieties, such as the Bologna Codpiece (pictured) and the armored or 'Sausage 'o Steel.'

If you really want to know, go here.

During my search I came across various threads of conversation about said codpiece. I believe there are numerous young adults out there that were *deeply* disturbed by it!

This is from Bowie Wonderworld, which touches on types of Bowie fans:

Some are fans simply because of a pair of ball busting tights he wore in Labyrinth. The mere glimpse of that crotch for more than 2 seconds would convert any young pre-pubescent teenager into one of the 'moist Bowie fan generation'. The number of Labyrinth video tapes worn out from the 'pause, play, slow motion, frame by frame' viewing is now beyond counting.

I think that says it all.

Speaking of crotches, why do silk boxers exist?

Every man I've ever talked to says they're just too comfortable. So they save them for 'special occasions.'

What 'occasion' is 'special' enough for you to wear boxers that give you a constant raging hard-on?

Sounds more like a clothes-optional type of situation to me.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

That rocks my face off!

Imagine if a song actually did rock your face off...it'd have to come with warning labels and a waiver to be signed and mailed before opening.

Last night, my cat drooled on me.

Not just a little 'happy to see you' kind of drool...

She was drooling with a vengeance.

It was the 'I've crawled across the desert to see you' kind of drool.

She drooled as if she hadn't eaten in days, nay, weeks, and I was her tasty kitty kibble...

It was gross.

Jail Time, Anyone?

I have a friend whose roommate has recently gone down the tubes. Let's call the roommate Trashy.

Trashy is now dating the ugliest, most disgusting piece of shit you've ever seen. In fact, let's call him Scum.

Scum looks like the kinda guy that is into drugs. What kind? Who cares, but I'm sure it's more than just a little weed.

Anyway, Trashy is pretty broke, has stopped paying attention to her personal hygiene, and is generally a piece of crap. She works at a restaurant and is as greasy as the food she serves.

Scum mooches off of Trashy. He stays at their place all the time. He uses her cell phone. She drives him around.

Prior to Scum, Trashy was a pretty fun chick. My friend said she used to have confidence in herself and was social.

The first time I met Trashy, she was disheveled, quiet, and wouldn't even look me in the eye. Scum didn't even say 'hi,' which was fine by me.(though I've been told that I'm quite intimidating, even scary to new people, but not in the 'bad' way, more of a 'I demand respect and you will listen to what I have to say' kinda way)

Trashy recently took a week off of work to drive to California to pick up 'some guy' for $500.

Does this sound suspicious to you?

Can you think of a situation that would involve driving from Iowa to California for $500 to pick up 'some guy' that DOESN'T have to do with drug trafficking?

It's a stretch. I asked if Scum had anything to do with it...apparently he has EVERYTHING to do with it...Another One Bites the Dust.

My friend is extremely uncomfortable with the situation. So she's moving out. She doesn't think she can find anyone to live with Trashy (Scum pays $50/mo for a room at his Grandma's...why pay more when you can mooch?)so she's going to use some loan $$ to pay off her lease and move.

Talk about Shitty.

But it's better than trying to get authorities involved (i.e. life threatening) and all that happy crap.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Look out guys, we're after you...

Police are warning all men who frequently visit clubs, parties and local pubs to be alert and stay cautious when offered a drink from any woman. Many females use a date rape drug on the market called "Beer".

The drug is found in liquid form and available almost everywhere. It comes in bottles, cans, from taps and in large "kegs". "Beer" is used by female sexual predators at parties and bars to persuade their male victims to go home and have sex with them.

A woman needs only to get a male to consume a few units of "Beer" and then simply ask him home for no strings attached sex.

Men are rendered helpless against this approach.

Many times these unfortunate men are swindled out of their life's savings in a scam known as a"relationship".

In extreme cases, the female may even be shrewd enough to entrap the unsuspecting male into a long-term form of servitude and punishment referred to as "marriage".

Please show this warning to every male you know!

If you fall victim to this "Beer" and the women administering it.....there are male support groups where you can discuss the details of your shocking encounter with similarly affected like-minded guys.

For the support group nearest you, just look up "Locker Room" in the Yellow Pages!

Thursday, January 12, 2006

License to Phil

I received some oddly disturbing news today.

A friend of mine, who works in the UK, told me TV-owning Brits are required to have a TV License.

"What? Why?"

"To support the BBC."

"Those fuckers."

If you own a TV in the UK, you're *required by law* to purchase a license for it.

I'd hate to have to watch free BBC. God forbid!

And there isn't any HBO!! (gasp, I'm never leaving the country!)

The cost for such a ridiculous thing is 126.5 pounds or $230 USD a year.

That's about $20/month! I spend that much on cat food & litter!

If I lived in the UK, they'd have to go hungry and shit outside. (or in the bathtub, which they do when their own boxes disgust them; they're the worst cats EVER.)

BBC argues that they need the money to run the damn thing. So, if you're going to watch BBC, you have to pay for it.

We have the same thing in the States. It's called CABLE. (and the option to choose...)

Maybe BBC stands for Big Balling Cunts.

I feel sorry for those poor bastards.

But there's no escaping the BBC.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Lotion Boogers and Alarm Clocks

I have to get up early. Really early.

I participate in a program that saves me money but costs me sleep.

I'm in a vanpool.

This requires me to be somewhere at 6:45 am to catch a ride to work.

I'm a Beauty Queen, meaning I have a certain regiment of shit to do in the morning. So, to accomplish said shit I have to get up no later than 5:50 am.

I like to hit the snooze. Alot.

So much so that I purposely set my alarm for 5:03. (I've never gotten out of bed at 5:03, so I'm not sure why I do this. Must be some form of self-torture.)

This morning my Alarm Clock Spoke to me. (or I imagined that it did...)

"You have to get up in two minutes. If you don't, I'll create a diversion and you'll fall back asleep for twelve minutes."

I just smiled and thought, "OK," and took the 12 minutes...

What a lying asshole. That 12 minutes turned into half an hour!

J-Love had it right with The Snooze Bar.

During my daily Beauty Regiment, My Ugly-Ass Cat, hopped up on the sink and stared at me.

I was in a hurry, I had no time to pay her attention.

She didn't like that.

Drastic measures were taken to catch my attention.

I have a tall bottle of lotion on my sink. She looked at it, looked at me, looked at it, and sniffed it.

Then she started to chew on it.

No, Kitty! That's a BAD KITTY!

She got Lotion Boogers all over her flat little face and proceeded to eat them.

(Lotion Boogers:the stubborn lotion that refuses to come out, then firms up, blocking the way for the rest of the lotion trying to escape)

Yet another reason that she is The Most Disgusting Cat EVER!!

Monday, January 09, 2006

Grease me up, Scotty - I'm going in!

There's a little campaign here in Iowa, It's called Lighten Up (fat-ass) Iowa.

If you really want to know, go here.

If not, it's a program to motivate people to lose all of the fatness gained over the holidays (or a lifetime) which takes advantage of the good intentions that come with new year's resolutions.

There is a team comprised of my office mates.

I, in all of my wonderful I'm-still-young-enough-to-eat-what-I-want-and-stay-trim, *laziness * decided to forego the team.

I'm going to use this opportunity to taunt and torture them.

They came up with a Code of Conduct, which includes rules like: Only one alcoholic drink a day during the week (a few more on the weekends); fast food only once a week; only 12 oz of a caffeinated drink everyday (coffee drinkers faint) ; workouts, etc. etc.

I'm going to drive the 1000 feet to the nearest Mc Donald's and get a fat Big-Mac with extra toppings, and a large fry.

The smell is sure to fill the office with greasy hunger-pangs...which will send them running to the refridgerator which is stocked with caffeine free diet pop and vegetables. Alas, no comfort there.

So I will sit in my cubicle, which is more centrally located than the break room, and mau down on my grease trap of a lunch, making sure that mayonnaise and/or ketchup is dripping down my chin every time one of them walks by.

And I will moan in fatty putrid ecstacy.

I'll do this on Friday, just to be sure they've all used up their once-a-week fast food pass.
wow, i'm a bitch, huh? this is going to be fun...::evil laughter::


...in the hall at the bar:

I was on my way to the ladies' room, and I noticed a long line for the men's room. Odd.

This particular bar is so classy, that there aren't any locks on the stalls, proper toilet-paper holders, heat registers, or doors on the bathrooms.

So, as I was passing by the line, and glanced three full urinals, I heard this:

Why isn't someone using the sink?!


Men. (I assume he wasn't scolding his fellow bar-mates for not washing their hands...)

Friday, January 06, 2006

An Awkward Moment

This story may sound like something you've seen in a movie, but it actually happened.

To me.

I got my first job when I was 17. A little late, I know, Mother always said, "School comes first."

Maybe that's why I'm such a nerd.

Anyway, we were part owners of a sub place. I was hired to be a manager. (Which is laughable now since I had NO IDEA what I was doing, I was the owner's daughter, and it was my first job, talk about a power trip!)

Mother specifically told me, "This is not a 'dating ground,' young lady!"

So I dated the only guy there that was my age. Go figure, right?

Naturally, she hated him. Which made it sooo much better.

Since I knew of my mother's hatred for Adam; I decided to be a little *Naughty*

We had the day off of school, so Adam came over. We played video games with my younger brother for a little bit, then we decided to, uh, 'take care of business.'

My brother knew what was up, but he worshipped Adam, so he didn't care.

"I've got a great idea!"

"What's that?"

"Let's do it in my mom's bed."

"Why do you wanna do that?!"

"I dunno, guess it's a power thing..."

"OK." (I doubt he really cared where we did it.)

It was 2 pm. Plenty of time - or so we thought...

We were about to go for a second round when I heard what sounded like glasses being knocked around in the kitchen.

"What was that?!"

"Probably just my brother."

Next thing you know, the door is opening and in pops my mother's head!

The look on her face was *Priceless*

All she could manage was, "Both of you get your clothes on right now!"

So we did; and he panicked, "I don't want to leave you here by yourself, she's going to kill you!"

She had come home early, I couldn't believe it. THAT is how she found out I was having SEX...

He left, and I sat down at the kitchen table with my mother. AWKWARD.

She took a deep breath, and asked me some questions. Ok, not too bad..."And you're going to the doctor to get some pills."


"Oh, and wash my sheets."


I think this is one of every parents' fears.

I made it come true.

And I'd do it again.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

I Feel Smelly.

We've all had those mornings. The mornings after a long night of blissfully drinking ourselves toward destruction. Well, New Year's Day was one of those mornings.

"I feel smelly."

"You can't feel smelly. You are smelly."


I have a friend that possesses a degree in English. He calls it his License to Invent Words. I have a degree in Math. So do I have a License to Invent Numbers? Notsomuch. doesn't sound as cool either...

What if I said I can Taste Happiness? (oooo dirty joke potential!) I'd probably go around licking people and things to check if they taste Happy. Wait. I already do that...

Point is, I know what I meant by it. So did he. End of story.

A passage from IT by Stephen King, which I've been reading for about 2 months:
(and i only have about 100 pages left!)

One old campaigner, Egbert Thoroughgood, now ninety-three, told me of taking a slat-thin prostitute in a crib on Baker Street.
"I only realized after I spent m'spunk in her that she was laying in a pool of jizzum maybe an inch deep. Stuff had just about gone to jelly. 'Girl,' I says, 'ain't you never cared for y'self?' She looks down and says, 'I'll put on a new sheet if you want to go again. There's two in the cu-bud down the hall, I think. I knows pretty much what I'm layin in until nine or ten, but by midnight my cunt's so numb it might's well be in Ellsworth.'"

CHARMING that Mr. King is...ICK that picture is fucking creepy!

OH YEAH: Why wasn't I informed about the Bacon of the Month Club?! And this retardedly funny StuffOnMyCat.com? People have too much time on their hands.

mmmm PORK!

NOTE TO SELF: DO NOT talk about blogging to non-bloggers. They just don't get it. (And it makes me feel even nerdy than my math degree, AS IF THAT'S POSSIBLE!)

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

The Penis Poll

This was an idea that I came up with after I wrote The S Curve ...

Let's see what we've got!! (pick one of the first 2 answers and your preference....)

OK Men....have at it:

Which best describes you?

I am left handed.

I am right handed.

I hang to the right and I like my left hand better.

I hang to the right and I like my right hand better.

I hang to the right and I have no preference.

I hang to the left and I have no preference.

I hang to the left and I like my left hand better.

I hang to left and I like my right hand better.

Spi Pi is a crazy Crotch Watcher and I refuse to answer!

Free polls from Pollhost.com

You're Welcome, World!

Random Sayings & Happenings: The Holiday Edition

My SO, who is currently on probation with me, received some of the oddest (read:crappy)Christmas gifts from his mother that I've ever seen!

His haul:

1. A hand towel embroidered with a company logo (a company his dad has a contract with, hmmm wonder how much THAT one cost...)

2. Stationary. He has the worst handwriting I've ever seen, and more importantly, HE DOESN'T WRITE LETTERS!

3. An ornament. An ugly one at that.

Wow. Merry Christmas, but it's the thought that counts, right? (A fucking HAND TOWEL! that just amazes me!)

Speaking of the odd and ugly here's this:

It's Santa Claw. (haHA I think I just wet my pants!)

The New Year Celebration went pretty well, we got all fancied up - in fact we discovered that we are all narcissists. I even brought my own mirror.
Line of the night: You're Welcome, World!

We started the night at an art gallery where chicks were walking around in heels, thongs, nipple tassles, and paint! There was a Fetish Theme to the whole thing...

Interesting crowd. We hit a few bars, did some shots...

The End of the Night:Let's just say we were so drunk that as soon as we entered the side door at the hotel our brains checked out.


I don't even remember walking through the lobby.

Next thing I know, it's 8am, and I'm in bed, fully clothed (bummer). I was awake for 5 minutes. Just long enough to undress, peel out my contacts, use the bathroom (the floor was wet, wtf?) and close the curtains...

My SO woke up at 6am naked in the bathtub! There was spew in the toilet. He has no recollection of getting naked (he even neatly folded his clothes!), or filling the bathtub. (thank god he didn't drown)

Success! Happy New Year!