Jazz Hands!

WIFEZILLA: Guys' bodies are so weird.

TACO: It's a biological inevitability.

WIFEZILLA: Still weird.

TACO: It's not my fault. You go into REM sleep, you get a raging boner. Fact of life.

WIFEZILLA: Still weird.

TACO: You should be happy. You pounce me in the middle of the night, most of the work's already done for you.

WIFEZILLA: Still weird.

TACO: Okay, I have to admit... I'd be kinda freaked out of women... you know...

TACO: [jazz hands around his junk]

TACO: [hisses]

TACO: ... like that dinosaur on Jurassic Park.

WIFEZILLA: *chokes* Okay, that was pretty good. Please don't ever do it again.

The Brokeback Opry

I want to write a gay country and western ballad called "You Made My Brown Eye Blue."

Story Time with Taco

Yes, indeed it is.

Turns out I'm not mature enough to shop for tea. Who knew?

Kitty Go Boom

Every morning, I get up, lumber downstairs, and fix a pot of coffee to get my heart started. The cat waits by the back door every day, and when I make my way past the door I stop and let her in. It's a good routine.

The first time I speak to the cat each day, she automatically arches her back and staggers to the right as if to rub against my leg in that catly way they do, even if I'm nowhere near her at the time.

Yesterday I realized that if I time it right, I can make her walk into things.

My powers are amazing. And stupid.

Doctor Doctor, give me the news...

How exactly does one wind up being a pharmacist when you've got this last name?

Minty Fresh

I told this story to fett the other day. Hadn't thought of it in years, and now I can't resist sharing it with the rest of you [poor sumbitches].

I'd guess this all took place around the time I was sixteen. I was seeing this girl Courtney, and for the first time, "seeing this girl" actually meant going out on dates instead of that lame "going together" thing kids do at lunch before they can drive.

It was not going well, due largely to my being painfully fucking shy (not to mention a complete dork).

(And I am so fucking not Sheldon, no matter what Blue and my wife say.)

One of my best friends decided to have a little fun with me, so for my birthday, he got me a box of mint-scented condoms. Partly, I guess at that age, it's just exciting to buy condoms. You're barely past the stage where you giggle every time they're mentioned. Mostly, I think, it was to make fun of me, since, being the giant lump of low self esteem you see before you e'en unto this day... they couldn't have been more useless to me.

Now, far be it from me to look a gift horse in the mouth. I decided to get some mileage out of the present anyway. We had another friend, Amy. Amy was smart and funny and crass and vulgar... and basically awesome. I decided it was time to get her involved in the caper.

The three of us were all marching band nerds, so I snuck into the instrument room and opened Amy's trumpet case looking for her flip book... basically, a little flip folder that could be attached to a musical instrument, and which contained all the music we played in the stands during the football games, plus the national anthem and the school's alma mater, which we had to play at the beginning of every home football game.

I popped the flip folder out, flipped through until I found what I was looking for, and booyah... opened up one of the condoms and stretched it across the Star Spangled Banner. Then I packed the folder back up nice and neat to hide my handiwork and went about my business.

That Friday was a home game, so we had to go do all the pregame stuff. We all played trumpet, so it was gong to be easy to see the results. And of course I'd told all my friends what I'd done, so there was a nice big crowd of trumpet players gathered around Amy, jockeying for prime hilarity-viewing real estate, snickering, and generally failing to hide the fact that something was up.

I... haven't really matured much over the years.

We played the school's alma mater.

Then we all flipped to the Star Spangled Banner... and SPLUT. There's the condom across Amy's.

Right there in the end zone, she fishes the condom out of her folder, inflates it, and goes, "Mmm... mint flavored, too!"

The entire trumpet line pretty much dissolved into laughter at that point. Hell, we all damn near fell down right there on the field. So there was no melody at all for the national anthem.

Now, I grew up in a football town. The whole town shuts down at 4pm on football Fridays. So everyone was there.

The band director was livid.

I don't remember what the punishment was, but it was totally worth it.

A happy today, indeed.

Taco: Take my hand. We'll make it. I swear.

Wifezilla: You're weird.

Taco: Well, yeah.

Wifezilla: Got you a happy today present. And no, I can't tell you.

Taco: Cool, what is it?

Wifezilla: Shut up. And there's two of them.

Taco: Omg is it boobs? I hope it's boobs.

Wifezilla: No. But maybe I can put them on top of my boobs.

Taco: Best. Wife. Evar.

When I Think About Me...

Taco: You are so hot.

Wifezilla: You are lying!

Taco: Nuh uh!

Wifezilla: Well, you are hot, too.

Taco: I know. Even I can't keep my hands off me.

The Wang Whisperer

I recently switched over to a Mac laptop as my main computer at home, and I'm still experimenting with all the software options available to me on the new platform. I found a pretty serviceable chat program in Adium almost immediately and have been most pleased with it.

Last night, while digging through the applications folder for Shit I Haven't Tried Out Yet (TM), I found that the computer came with chat software already installed. Huh. Reasoning that anything so blessed by Apple must be very nicely integrated with the system, I decided to try it out.

It works well, but I wasn't able to get it to connect to everything I wanted all at the same time. I generally stay logged into AIM, ICQ, and GoogleTalk because there's people I chat with frequently on all three. It looks like I can do that with iChat, but I haven't figured out how yet. Still getting used to the way Mac does things.

Like most of the software I've fiddled with on OSX, it's very pretty, and adds nice little touches that make using it more intuitive and pleasant.

It decorates the chats so that what you and your chat partner type come up in word balloons (a la comic strips) in the chat window, making it look for all the world like your icons are talking to each other. You can turn this off, but I got a kick out of it and left it on.

Then Coyote logged on and I pounced on the not-nearly-often-enough opportunity to talk to him. And all hell broke loose.

You see, Coyote's icon is always a golden wang.

And last night, the golden wang talked to me, man.

It was... surreal.

I lack what they call "social skills."

So yesterday my stomach wasn't doing all that great. Let's just gloss over the details and say that what I did to the bathroom wasn't pretty, and it took three flushes of our industrial grade toilets to undo the damage.

I washed up and left the bathroom. A woman was leaving the women's room at the exact same moment, and she stopped and gave me a look of... well, not horror, exactly. Perhaps concern?

It was an awkward moment, and I lack the social finesse to navigate such treacherous waters. But, I reasoned, I've never seen this woman before, so she must work for the other company on our floor. What's the worst that could happen?

So I did the first thing that popped in my head, which seemed pretty funny at the time:

I held up three fingers and said, "That's right. Three flushes." And I walked off for the breakroom to reload on caffeine.

When I stopped to fish my access badge out of my pocket, she walked past me. As in going the opposite direction of the other company on our floor. I watched until she got to the end of the hallway, scanned her badge, and entered our office space.

Shit.

Heh. Shit. I just caught that.

Oh hell... I'm doing it again.

Just a hair too far.

I just returned from a vacation that Blue's been after me to take for a few weeks now. It would seem that my temper's been a bit short at work, and she feels that some time away from the fucktards in California and the U.K. was just the thing I needed.

I think it's postponed justifiable homicide. We'll see if anything more has been accomplished.

So the family and I spent a few days visiting with my father-in-law. Pretty nice visit. He and the kids played a lot, wifezilla visited with a couple of her friends, and I finally read half of Ilium (it's a geek's masturbatory fantasy. Spoiler: one of the characters has sex every which way with Helen of Troy. I'd have gone with Cleopatra given the choice, but then again... beggars can't be choosers, right?).

Then we drove over to visit suyapi. Suyapi, his girlie, wifezilla, and I took the kids to the zoo today. At some point during the trip to the zoo, my sister texted my phone, and I showed the message to suyapi. Somehow -- I forget how exactly, but I'm pretty sure peer pressure was involved. My high school gym teacher told me that shit's insidious and I have no resistance to it -- suyapi wound up with my phone and started texting my sister back. At some point, he threatened to text my sister a picture of his junk. She freaked out, and my dad started sending threatening text messages.

I love my friends.

I've got a feeling I've got a few long conversations to be endured next time I'm at my parents' house though.

She's my little princess.

So this weekend, we're riding around in the car, and my daughter is sitting in her car seat, red-faced, grunting, and straining:

TACO: You okay over there?

DAUGHTER: Nnnnngyeah.

TACO: Do you need to be changed?

DAUGHTER: Nnnnnnng...no.

TACO: You didn't poop your pants?

DAUGHTER: Nnnnnnng...no.

TACO: What are you doing over there?

DAUGHTER: Nnnnng... I'm trying to fart.

Personalized License Plates

I have a completely irrational hatred of personalized license plates.

I had a couple of paragraphs here earlier detailing my hatred in acid tones, but deleted it. I've got a once-in-a-great-while reader that I made fun of, and with my luck, he'd load up my blog and see it. Allow me to sum up without examples: a) unless your plate is intended to be witty and amusing, I probably only grind my teeth a little, and b) I probably don't mean you.

If your plate is supposed to be clever, I die a little inside whenever I see it. Fuck me, I hate those damn things.

The ones I do like are the ones that are unintentionally funny. A few years ago, I was riding behind someone with a plate that read:

BCNSLT

Now, sure, their initials were probably BCN, and the car was probably an LT model of whatever-the-fuck conspicuously consumed vehicle they'd bought, and they wanted the world to know that it was BCN's god damned LT.

But for the rest of my life, that chick will be known to me as The Bacon Slut.

On my way home tonight, I saw the second funny personalized plate I've ever seen:

MM 88

God help me, I laughed until I cried. If you don't get it, then Noq and I just get to lord it over you. Especially you, Coyote, since you're going to lord the beginning of my own conversation over me.

Neener neener neen.

I never get to play along.

There's another internet meme in the works, whereupon people are giving each other questionnaires to answer, and having them post the answers on their blogs. Being the social tard I am, I find myself watching it all in bemusement once again, unsure how to butt in and participate.

Coyote and I have periodically discussed how every internet questionnaire that flies around the world's email servers invariably sucks. They always ask questions that involve no risk on the answerer's part, so you don't really find out anything about them.

So we decided to correct that dreadful problem.

Plus, you know, offensive questions are funny. We're mature that way.

I've kicked various questions around in my head for a long time. We decided a long time ago that twenty was the optimal number for such a list. Or maybe it was ten. Or thirty-seven. I forget. Anyway, the latest internet phenom has people giving and answering five questions, and it's way easier to come up with five than however-the-hell-many we decided we needed. So I'm copping out and posting my five favorites.

Answer my questions, bitches.

1. What's your favorite book of all time?
2. Now that you've given a totally bullshit answer in order to impress people on the intarwebs whom you've never met, stop being a poser and tell us what your real favorite book of all time is.
3. What famous person, past or present, would you ravage sexually given the opportunity? Addendum: this person must be counter to your own sexual orientation. If you are heterosexual, they must be of your sex. If you are homosexual, they must be of the opposite sex. If you are bisexual, they must be an animal or a plant.
4. What's the most bizarre sexual act you've ever committed? If you puss out and post something that's not interesting, we get to make fun of you. Make something up if you have to. Use lots of adjectives.
   
5. Can you get the image of your grandparents fucking out of your head?

How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?

Inga: fett and i have been playing this game

Taco: Oh, now just so we're clear
Taco: FETT IS MINE

Inga: oh yeah? well YOU CAN'T STOP OUR LOVE

Taco: I bought him mashed potatoes! You just try and beat that!
Taco: Oh wait... yeah... boobs.
Taco: Shit.

Goth Chicks

I just don't see what all the fuss is about.

Awesome names

I've been working here for five years now, and I still see awesome names all the damn time. Names with so much fantasticalosity that I'm jealous having my own puny little name. In the past five years, I've seen name plates or email signatures bearing monikers like Steven Martin, Mike Michael, Mike Jackson, and my favorite ever, King Wang (if I ever have my name legally changed, I'm changing it to King Wang).

Today I got an email from someone named Siddhardha. That's so awesome it hurts. That's got to be like naming an American kid Jeebus.

Can I get my wang engineered?

Poetry night in Azeroth

I had a little time on my hands during the RP event on Steamwheedle Cartel tonight, so I amused myself by making up dirty limericks. It's okay. I stayed in character.

I once knew a lass from Un'goro
Who was such an incredible whore-oh,
I went there every night
For her nethers so tight
'till she finally put me on /ignore-oh.

Thank you, I'll be here all week.