Shameless Self-Promotion

I'm so fucking cool.

Jetson is a genius.

He posted a picture of the Pi. (I haven't even done that...well, not here anyway, maybe one day, if you're nice)

Since it is HuMp DaY, I give you The Porn Star Cucumber:

I was working at ye olde samich shoppe, when I ventured into the cooler and came out with this little gem.

I promptly chopped off one end and snapped this picture.

Standing a respectable 7 .75" with just the right amount of curve, a proportionately rounded end, and a good 6" in circumference, it's sure to be a great way to end any (ahem) long, hard day. . .

The Porn Star Cucumber, the one that always seems to turn up missing.

And do check out Hot Chicks with Douchebags, the newest link under Favorite Blogs.

And the MVP Award goes to...

I have a new friend. His name is Seth.

Seth has a daughter, whom he loves more than life.

Then there's "my baby's mamma"

As far as I know, she has no name.

Seth makes $3.50 an hour after childsupport is taken out. He's a little stressed.

He claims to have A Gift.

Women love me. No matter how I look. I may be a little over weight, have a scraggly beard, wild hair, and crazy eyes, but they always hit on me.

I didn't believe him. I think he's creepy. Nice guy, just creepy. I'd never hit on him.

Why do you act like that's a bad thing?

Because I've already retired my cock.

Why would you do a thing like that?!

Because of The Curse.

. . .

Every woman I've ever been with has gained weight exponentially. I mean it. My baby's mamma was around 140 when I met her, now she's around 350. So I took it upon myself to save the world from more fat chicks and retire my cock. I had a good career, but you gotta know when to throw in the towel.

I'm addicted to making out with women, however. I LOVE making out with women. I need intimacy too.

Hah, at least we agree on something.

I Blame the Taco

Yesterday was a momentous day. A Superfantasticextravaganza. It was The Jaunty Lookin' Hobo's Birthday!

Happy Birthday! One more time, from your Pi.

Since he is stashed away in a suburb of London, I decided to celebrate for the both of us...

Enter a mexican restaurant.

Enter, the Monster Margarita.

48oz of Frozen Strawberry Glory.

Oh, I did order a few enchiladas, rice, and a taco...all I ate was the taco. Save the rest for lunch tomorrow, I've got drinkin' to do!

I finished the marg in record time. To the bar...

A few tall long islands later...well, lets just say spontaneous projectile vomiting on the sidewalk is an art.

An ART.

A nice passer-by gave my 'handler' a bottle of water, how thoughtful.

And back to the bar!

This morning was less than stellar. The 40 mile drive to work was excruciating.

Every bump irritated the Evil churning in my stomach. So much so that I had to pull over at a rest stop...

I Blame the Taco.

It wasn't delicious enough to entice me to consume its cheesey compadres.

Had I done that, things might have ended differently.

Or the Sidewalk Art would've been more abstract with varying colors...

Tossing up m'guts is a rare occasion**...so I thought I'd SHARE.

Aren't you glad you stopped by today?

**When it does happen, it's always an event, how else did I become the #1 Google result for 'Puke Sprinkler'

Random Sayings & Happenings: Never Say Fat Edition

Most people, decent people, know that there are things you should NEVER, EVER, in a Million Years say to your significant other.


Take what the Curious Canary Hunter, herein referred to as Idiot said/did to his (supposedly) beloved Jilted Love Monkey:

He grabbed her.

But not just anywhere.

In the place where she's gained a little weight in the last few months...the 'love handle' area.

He Grabbed her and said, 'I only see this on unhealthy people...(squeezes and shakes her a little) I don't want you to be an unhealthy person...'

!

The road to hell is paved with good intentions and that is a perrrrfect example why.

Why didn't you just punch her in the face and call her a stupid fat bitch?!

Obviously, someone's in the doghouse. Problem is, he doesn't understand that what he did was INSENSITIVE. (sigh) men.

In other 'Spi Pi & Friends' news the Cute Angry Elf's SO decided to freak her out.

While hanging out into the wee hours of the morn', Blakey decided a random act of pant removal was due.

'I turned my back for a second and he managed to take his pants off! Ugh, you should have seen what he was wearing underneath them...'

Tighties?

'Whatever they were, they were hideous undies.'

To be completely random...(well not completely, The Hobo has been encouraging my brains to think about the strange and unusual =)

What if edible undies were sold in flavors such as Seaweed, and Black Licorice?

I bet there's a reason they don't come in flavors like Shrimp Scampi, Lobster Tail, Oyster, and Anchovie.

That would defeat one of the many purposes of edible undies, now wouldn't it?

Office Banter

Since the weather is finally warming up and staying warm, the Office Banter has taken a turn from 'My kid is graduating High School' and 'My daughter is dating a loser' and 'damnit my kid is coming home from college' to 'I HATE that guy! That guy with the lawn.'

The Perfect Lawn Guy.

There's at least one on every block.

Being the blessed 'Youngun' at the office, I still rent. I do not own a lawn mower. I do not own a rake. I do not own lawn refuse bags.

Lawn and Pi do not mix.

I'd spend all my time trying to figure out the perfect way to do it and if I could make a cool geometric pattern...(ahem) Geek....

So now they're all bitching about Perfect Lawn Guy...'Damnit, NOW I have to start the landscaping...take the wife to Home Depot...get some frickin mulch...'

So I lean back and smile, 'Hmm that's too bad...think I'll go out and get drunk tonight.'

They hate that. They have kids, and kids do stuff. Like golf lessons, dance, softball, baseball, choir, soccer, etcetc. Which means they drive minivans (Gasp, oh the horror!)

I have cats. Cats don't do shit. I feed them, I pet them, end of story.

Speaking of mowing lawns, as I sit here in my cube, my Fortress of Solitude, I look out the window at the perfect day and see a guy riding on a mower, going around in circles...

I'm surrounded by stacks of paper that are deemed 'important.' My eyes are going to fall out of my head from staring at statements all day.

He's riding around in the beautiful weather, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, enjoying the smell of freshly cut grass...

And who has it made again?

Why couldn't I embrace my natural mexican urge to mow lawns instead of college and an office job. . .

Yes, we're laughing at YOU!

Most of the time, when people are out shopping or dining, they rarely notice 'the help,' all of those little retail people that make everything possible...
But sometimes, we are noticed.

Like when we're have a good time at work, everyone's smiley and polite.

And of course, when we're having our worst days, we'll snap at you and be pissy.

Then there are regulars. You know who you are.

You go to the same place for lunch every Tuesday, or even every day. You always make that stop off at Starbucks on the way to work.
Same time, everyday, week after week. We notice. But do you notice us?

If you've been a regular long enough, you may even know us by name and make small talk. We already know your order and start making it the minute you walk in the door.

Then there are those of you that don't know our names, and probably wouldn't even recognize us on the street. (you stupid jerks...)

We have names for you people. Especially The Attractive.

You might be known as 'Sexy Business Man' or 'Tattoo Guy' or even 'Musky Lady'

If we can't find anything obvious to call you, you're known by your order.

The order that NEVER changes. (What's wrong with a little variety people?!)

The other night, while hanging out at the old samich shop, 'Hot Sunday Guy' came in.

I've heard stories about Hot Sunday Guy from the Jilted Love Monkey and the Cute Angry Elf.

As he was placing his order, I couldn't help but laugh at those two.

JLM had to go in the back to make sure her hair was just right...Angry Elf was making eyes at him.

My laughter made the cashier snicker since he gets to see this every week...then the other two start laughing...Hot Sunday Guy glances at me as he walks by...(sly smile)

I called them all dorks. (this picture has nothing to do with the post, but i love it. Ken looks so HAPPY!)

He felt a little self-concious...that was obvious...though he didn't know why we were laughing...or did he!?

Other times the regulars overreact...if you go into a place every night at the same time and order the same thing week after week...we'll ask your name. Please be nice.

The Cute Angry Elf, who is all of 18 and 5'2" had asked a night regular his name, and he looks her and says :

UM, I'm MARRIED (holds up left hand)

Ouch.

Now we laugh at him too. Do pay attention to the little people...and don't forget to tip!

City Kids

While growing up in the great city of Chicago, we came up with some creative ways to entertain ourselves...

When we didn't make the mile long trek to the park, we would ride bikes, play Kick the Can, and Make Me Laugh. (they never made me laugh, i was reining champ!)

Then there were those other games. . .

The ones where I ended up handcuffed to a light pole and screaming my head off for the person with a key cuz my mom wanted me to go home for dinner...(we were hardcore about Cops & Robbers...)

And the ones we made up...like Water Balloon Drive By and Sewer Ball.

Not sure why the sewer was so fascinating...but it was. We'd drop the heaviest rocks we could find just to see if we could make a splash big enough to make it to the street level...(and hit someone in the face!)

One of our favorite things to do in the summer was to go to Dominick's (grocery store) to buy a bunch of junk and waste our quarters in the candy machines...then hang out in the parking lot down the street and binge...healthy, I know!

Later in the day, Reuben would wash his car and there'd be a stream of sudsy water running into the sewer hole that we hung out by... (yes, we hung out by the sewer...)

We had this brilliant idea to catch some ants and put them inside the plastic bubbles from the candy machines and race them down the stream...

We even had a sort of bracket going on...winners were set free.

We were strange city kids...we ate hotdogs sold from a shack made from half a schoolbus on the corner....what do you expect?!

Pictures of my 'hood Portage Park

Dating a Metro?

The Jilted Love Monkey, pictured here, is dating the Curious Canary Hunter.

CCH is a different sort of man. Not quite a Metrosexual, but not a slob...

I think he's borderline Metro.

I could never date a full-blown Metro. Anyway, CCH's case goes like this:

He owns a pair of shoes for every occasion. Those of us women who LOVE shoes might have one for every occasion...but then we wouldn't be able to justify buying more shoes!

He will go through his closet and throw out things he doesn't wear. Now I'm not sure about that, I've seen guys wear hand-me-down t-shirts from their older brothers or even fathers.
These shirts are worn until they are practically see-through and have holes in them.

Then they become work-out shirts! And after that, possibly rags. Efficient, yet hardly stylish.

CCH hates body odor, but who doesn't?! Thing is, he doesn't like the smell of 'manly' soaps like Irish Spring, Lever 2000, or Zest. He hates bar soap. There are lots of bodywash products made with men in mind, typically in dark greens and blues with manly names.

He thinks men that use those are Metros.

So he uses Oil of Olay Body Wash.

He hates hair. As a woman, I can understand that. But many women, including myself, like chest hair. CCH actually has some, yet he trims it. And then shaves the divet at the base of his neck so it doesn't peek out of his shirt.

"He wants that perfect line," says the Love Monkey. He also unconsciously rubs his chest to make sure it's trimmed enough. He does it all the time, it's annoying.

He also is repulsed by his back hair. I've never seen it, but I bet it isn't that bad. He will give himself a half-hug in an attempt to shave as much as possible.

mmm nothing like cuddling up to stubble!

CCH has 2 belts. One black and one brown. (Practical, and no, it isn't just one belt that's reversable.)

'Do you think I should get another black belt? I wear this one all the time.' Love Monkey claims this was said in the manliest way possible. Right.

He's a good guy, don't get me wrong, an odd blend of the manly and metro. What do you think of the Metro?

Could you ever date a man that took just as long to get ready for a date and tried on just as many outfits...sharing a mirror with him while he gels his hair...shudder

Words of Wisdom?

We enjoy listening to The John Tesh Radio Show on the weeknights that I work at the samich shop.

I know, those are forbidden words...'enjoy' and 'John Tesh' in the same sentence...!

Anyway his little 'Intelligence for your Life' spoofs are pretty funny, and occasionally informative.

The other night he thought it'd be a good idea to get in touch with his pet-owning listeners.

'We all love our pets, but there are things that we need to face up to, like when they die.

Here's how to tell if your pet is really dead:

First, can you see it breathing? Breathing is when air is taken into the lungs and the chest expands, can you see it's chest going up and down?

The second was you can tell if they're alive is to hold a mirror up to their nose, if you see it fog up, then they're still alive.

And the last way to tell if your pet is dead is to test its ocular reflex. Take your finger or the eraser side of a pencil and push on its eye...'

!

Are people really that stupid?! Have there been multiple occurences of people burying live animals? If we all follow his advice, there will probably be more incidences of injured or even missing fingers...

If you want to be sure it's really dead, poke it in the eye. Brilliant!

Thank you, John Tesh....oh, and uh, when's that MotherShip coming?

Mature Bar Musings

A bar, a pub, a club, a watering hole...whatever you want to call it, you're there to drink and have a good time...

Usually the conversation is interesting...but not always mature.

Take the conversation I had at the bar Saturday night:

Hey guys, I saw a picture of a guy that looks just like soandso getting teabagged! That was the biggest sac I've ever seen.

Teabagging has kinda gone by the wayside...it's really too bad, it's quite the art-form.

Well, you bigger guys are lucky, when I teabag someone they can still lean back and see the ceiling, when any of you guys do it, they also get the Stinkface.

. . . ::all ponder::

::all nod::

You really are all back-n-crack, aren't you?


Ahhh...good quality conversation.

And the joke of the night:

Why do women have driver's licenses?

?

I dunno. . . . . . . there isn't a highway between the bedroom and the kitchen...

oh snap.