Okay, so some of you may know (like 1 of my 3 readers) but I'll be in Jacksonville, FL from Dec. 30th - Jan. 6th with a few friends. Should be a wild ride consisting of disc golf, beach scenes and "no shirt" parties like they used to have in Tommy 227. Anyway, I'll try to keep up with the posts, but I don't make promises anymore... not since I verbally agreed to protect the one-eyed squirrel that roamed my yard and then wasn't able to follow through well enough to keep Li'l Smokey alive.
No, I'm not crying... I just got sweat in my eye.
Friday, December 29, 2006
The New Jesus
Ladies and gentleman, let me introduce you to my candidate for the New Jesus: a single Pretzel Maker soft pretzel! I had one today and it was the best thing that's ever been in my mouth (although Swedish fish are way up there, too).
If you raise a Pretzel Maker pretzel up a flag pole, I know that I'll salute it. Then, I'd make sure to have some cheese dipping sauce waiting in the wings for when the bad boy comes back to terra firma, am I right?!
P.S. I'm not trying to be sacrilegious, though it certainly reads that way doesn't it?
If you raise a Pretzel Maker pretzel up a flag pole, I know that I'll salute it. Then, I'd make sure to have some cheese dipping sauce waiting in the wings for when the bad boy comes back to terra firma, am I right?!
P.S. I'm not trying to be sacrilegious, though it certainly reads that way doesn't it?
Screw Jobs Defined
5 Ways People Get Totally Hosed V. 1.0
5. Being a non-identical twin who is more Danny DeVito, less Arnold Schwarzennagarasidprojkes (spell check, please?)
Why, you ask? This one is pretty straight forward if you've seen the movie "Twins." I mean, Danny is something pretty wonderful... for a short, chubby, foul-mouthed 4.6" guy, while Arnold was the man back then, before politics and a little lady called cheap wine entered into the equation. I guess success was like a drug for him... but what was more like a drug were the actual drugs.
4. Being born in Russia, the Middle East or Alabama.
Um, no explanation necessary.
3. Having one leg that is shorter than the other.
I suffer from this ailment and can attest to how horrible it is. Sure, simple shoe inserts can fix the problem, but what about my confidence and self-esteem?! I'm dyin' over here! I mean, isn't this blog just a scream for attention anyway?
2. Feeling pressure to attend St. Thomas... and then doing so.
Maybe a parent, grandparent or influential role model attend the school. Either way, the path to becoming a douche bag lies within those limestone walls and, um, other architectural stylings. Triple-popped collars, Skyy vodka malted beverages and the occasional frat boy-esqe "Holla!" are the underlyings demons that eat souls at that university.
1. Having a birthday adjacent to or on a major holiday, such as Christmas or Memorial Day.
Ok, so Christmas is a no-brainer, right?! I mean, how can a little boy/girl expect to compete with Jesus Christ (Superstar!) for attention, gift cards and a puppy? Any old, senile grandparent would be quick to point out to little Ja/Ali+son that Jesus died to erase our sins and might even say "What have you done for me, ya screw-up?! You can barely even find time to call, yet you think you're better than the Messiah, the Son of god, the Prince of freakin' Peace?! No gift certificate for you!"
As for Memorial Day, I'll explain. I was born May 30th as a happy-go-lucky Nerf ball of goodness. However, it happened to be Memorial Day observed. If I complained about poor turnout or lack of quality gifts, even total strangers would say "Did you die for your country, slacker?! Either pick up a gun and shoot a weapon of mass destruction in the face, or cram some of those week-old cake scraps into your pie hole and shutty!" Oh, how I have suffered...
5. Being a non-identical twin who is more Danny DeVito, less Arnold Schwarzennagarasidprojkes (spell check, please?)
Why, you ask? This one is pretty straight forward if you've seen the movie "Twins." I mean, Danny is something pretty wonderful... for a short, chubby, foul-mouthed 4.6" guy, while Arnold was the man back then, before politics and a little lady called cheap wine entered into the equation. I guess success was like a drug for him... but what was more like a drug were the actual drugs.
4. Being born in Russia, the Middle East or Alabama.
Um, no explanation necessary.
3. Having one leg that is shorter than the other.
I suffer from this ailment and can attest to how horrible it is. Sure, simple shoe inserts can fix the problem, but what about my confidence and self-esteem?! I'm dyin' over here! I mean, isn't this blog just a scream for attention anyway?
2. Feeling pressure to attend St. Thomas... and then doing so.
Maybe a parent, grandparent or influential role model attend the school. Either way, the path to becoming a douche bag lies within those limestone walls and, um, other architectural stylings. Triple-popped collars, Skyy vodka malted beverages and the occasional frat boy-esqe "Holla!" are the underlyings demons that eat souls at that university.
1. Having a birthday adjacent to or on a major holiday, such as Christmas or Memorial Day.
Ok, so Christmas is a no-brainer, right?! I mean, how can a little boy/girl expect to compete with Jesus Christ (Superstar!) for attention, gift cards and a puppy? Any old, senile grandparent would be quick to point out to little Ja/Ali+son that Jesus died to erase our sins and might even say "What have you done for me, ya screw-up?! You can barely even find time to call, yet you think you're better than the Messiah, the Son of god, the Prince of freakin' Peace?! No gift certificate for you!"
As for Memorial Day, I'll explain. I was born May 30th as a happy-go-lucky Nerf ball of goodness. However, it happened to be Memorial Day observed. If I complained about poor turnout or lack of quality gifts, even total strangers would say "Did you die for your country, slacker?! Either pick up a gun and shoot a weapon of mass destruction in the face, or cram some of those week-old cake scraps into your pie hole and shutty!" Oh, how I have suffered...
Thursday, December 28, 2006
One tough pill to swallow
This post will be brief but sweet for certain. I want to discuss the possibility of having one's dietary requirements fulfilled by a single pill every single day and also cover the lies that revolve around Matt Prom's Eagle Scout and Order of the Arrow distinctions.
First things first, we'll tackle Prom. When we were road tripping to Lake Powell and Tuscon last winter, a secret was revealed that rocked all our our lovely worlds. After badgering Prom with questions for about 2 hours, who was dropping like 8 hits of acid in the car (note: that may be an exaggeration or even a complete lie), we discovered that his dad purchased his Eagle Scout Badge on eBay. Now, that is just plain wrong. We creid a little, and then Tim Serie turned off the headlights to tell us how dark it was outside.
Later on while hiking in Sedona (after spending a night in a parking lot, no less) Prom refused to tell us anything about the Order of the Arrow ceremony and test he had to "endure for weeks, guys!" So, I figure he's a liar. And to think, I used to tell people he was a gentleman and a scholar. My hero was a fraud and that, dear reader, is a tough ass pill to choke down.
Secondly, and I think more importantly, we've got the food pill thing. I am guessing it'd be the size of a football and quite slicable. So, you could grill it, fry it, put it in a stew... God, I need some hobbies. I did some karaoke last night and even though I know all the words of the song "I Wanna Be Sedated" by The Ramones, I really wasn't confident and didn't even get a standing ovation. My friend laughed a lot, and I think it was at instead of with me.
I may post later about some awesome bands I like and why you should like them, too.
Pump those crazy legs Edgar, like a metronome!
~Matt
First things first, we'll tackle Prom. When we were road tripping to Lake Powell and Tuscon last winter, a secret was revealed that rocked all our our lovely worlds. After badgering Prom with questions for about 2 hours, who was dropping like 8 hits of acid in the car (note: that may be an exaggeration or even a complete lie), we discovered that his dad purchased his Eagle Scout Badge on eBay. Now, that is just plain wrong. We creid a little, and then Tim Serie turned off the headlights to tell us how dark it was outside.
Later on while hiking in Sedona (after spending a night in a parking lot, no less) Prom refused to tell us anything about the Order of the Arrow ceremony and test he had to "endure for weeks, guys!" So, I figure he's a liar. And to think, I used to tell people he was a gentleman and a scholar. My hero was a fraud and that, dear reader, is a tough ass pill to choke down.
Secondly, and I think more importantly, we've got the food pill thing. I am guessing it'd be the size of a football and quite slicable. So, you could grill it, fry it, put it in a stew... God, I need some hobbies. I did some karaoke last night and even though I know all the words of the song "I Wanna Be Sedated" by The Ramones, I really wasn't confident and didn't even get a standing ovation. My friend laughed a lot, and I think it was at instead of with me.
I may post later about some awesome bands I like and why you should like them, too.
Pump those crazy legs Edgar, like a metronome!
~Matt
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Caveman vs. Lumberjack: FINAL Verdict (Side note: That'd be a cool movie title)
Ok, some of you may recall a certain webpage I was associated with back at SJU during my first two years of sublime magic that was college. I'd say still is, but I refuse to acknowledge that jerks like my brother are loving that particular life at this very moment. At any rate, we had one and only one poll question EVER during that two year span and it was as follows:
"Who would win in a fight, a caveman or a lumberjack?"
Essentially, and after much debate, it was decided that the lumberjack would have an axe or saw of somesort while the caveman would have a club (being one of the more intelligent pegs on the ladder climbing up to Homo sapiens).
Now, I was a staunch supporter of the caveman, particularly since I had watched a Discovery Channel show all about cave people and how frickin' hard their lives were. In one scene, it showed a new mother carrying her infant around by the leg, dangling it to and fro as she rummaged for berries or whatever they did back then. Zack Oschwald was there (meaning he was watching the show, not residing in Neolithic times).
Anyway, I want to lay this debate to rest once and for all. Think clearly, and you'll see the light.
Picture this epic duel, this showdown of titans, as a boxing match. In the red corner, wearing nothing but a loincloth fashioned from the skin of an animal he killed, it Ugluk the Impaler (he has a pointy stick). He is lean, short and angry because of all the caddle prodding he has received lately.
In the blue corner, we've got Pierre the Lumberman wearing his flannel shirt and rockin' a bushy-ass beard. He is straight (which might come up later, we'll see). His axe, although a little dull, can still cleave a mightly red oak if need be (it is about a 6.25 on a scale of 1-10, with 10 being a really nice axe with ivory inlays and some etching on the blade).
Ok, as they begin to fight, Ugluk knows how to stralk and kill prey, so he of course would jab his pointy stick at Pierre and scream things like "Oogachaka, oogachaka" and "Kelly Clarkson," if t.v. and David Hasselhoff are any indication of what cavemen like to proclaim during battle.
Pierre, on the other hand, would say things in French. Now, little Napoleon aside, the French aren't exactly known for how they roll in a fight but for croissants and other flaky pastries. Even a life of lugging wood wouldn't have Pierre as hard as Ugluk.
Also, Ugluk's theme song is "Tubthumpin'" by Chumbawunba, so his fans would be singing, "He gets knocked down, but he gets up again! You're never gonna keep him down!" Pierre's theme song would be that Celine Dion hit from Titanic which wouldn't be that relevant AND explains why he'd fire his manager after the 1st round. I always saw him as a Duran Duran fan, myself...
So, to conclude, Ugluk would probably have some quite savory recipies for human meat and everyone would get drunk... I mean, Boxing Day in Canada is probably the worst day to be sober ever. Peer pressure all around, along with another shot!
Sorry I didn't explain the actual fight, but I got bored. Also, mad props to those who reply to my stuff... the best response was "Keep rollin'" and I think it was from Ali, Muhammed Ali. And wow, he can read! That's great, he's getting better and is now able to recognize simple shapes and patterns.
Muhammed (freaking) Ali loves my work, and so should you.
~El Stylio
P.S. Tell your friends... And since that is a CD title from Taking Bakc Sunday, I should plug their new album "Louder Now," especially the song "MakeDamnSure" which you should acquire as soon as possible. It is a sexy bundle soundwaves, to be sure.
"Who would win in a fight, a caveman or a lumberjack?"
Essentially, and after much debate, it was decided that the lumberjack would have an axe or saw of somesort while the caveman would have a club (being one of the more intelligent pegs on the ladder climbing up to Homo sapiens).
Now, I was a staunch supporter of the caveman, particularly since I had watched a Discovery Channel show all about cave people and how frickin' hard their lives were. In one scene, it showed a new mother carrying her infant around by the leg, dangling it to and fro as she rummaged for berries or whatever they did back then. Zack Oschwald was there (meaning he was watching the show, not residing in Neolithic times).
Anyway, I want to lay this debate to rest once and for all. Think clearly, and you'll see the light.
Picture this epic duel, this showdown of titans, as a boxing match. In the red corner, wearing nothing but a loincloth fashioned from the skin of an animal he killed, it Ugluk the Impaler (he has a pointy stick). He is lean, short and angry because of all the caddle prodding he has received lately.
In the blue corner, we've got Pierre the Lumberman wearing his flannel shirt and rockin' a bushy-ass beard. He is straight (which might come up later, we'll see). His axe, although a little dull, can still cleave a mightly red oak if need be (it is about a 6.25 on a scale of 1-10, with 10 being a really nice axe with ivory inlays and some etching on the blade).
Ok, as they begin to fight, Ugluk knows how to stralk and kill prey, so he of course would jab his pointy stick at Pierre and scream things like "Oogachaka, oogachaka" and "Kelly Clarkson," if t.v. and David Hasselhoff are any indication of what cavemen like to proclaim during battle.
Pierre, on the other hand, would say things in French. Now, little Napoleon aside, the French aren't exactly known for how they roll in a fight but for croissants and other flaky pastries. Even a life of lugging wood wouldn't have Pierre as hard as Ugluk.
Also, Ugluk's theme song is "Tubthumpin'" by Chumbawunba, so his fans would be singing, "He gets knocked down, but he gets up again! You're never gonna keep him down!" Pierre's theme song would be that Celine Dion hit from Titanic which wouldn't be that relevant AND explains why he'd fire his manager after the 1st round. I always saw him as a Duran Duran fan, myself...
So, to conclude, Ugluk would probably have some quite savory recipies for human meat and everyone would get drunk... I mean, Boxing Day in Canada is probably the worst day to be sober ever. Peer pressure all around, along with another shot!
Sorry I didn't explain the actual fight, but I got bored. Also, mad props to those who reply to my stuff... the best response was "Keep rollin'" and I think it was from Ali, Muhammed Ali. And wow, he can read! That's great, he's getting better and is now able to recognize simple shapes and patterns.
Muhammed (freaking) Ali loves my work, and so should you.
~El Stylio
P.S. Tell your friends... And since that is a CD title from Taking Bakc Sunday, I should plug their new album "Louder Now," especially the song "MakeDamnSure" which you should acquire as soon as possible. It is a sexy bundle soundwaves, to be sure.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Foot vs. Foot Collisions
Okay, this came to me while I was at work today making chocolate chip cookies for yuppies in Land Rovers (I can only assume).
Every frickin' time I come to a doorway, hallway or other area where one typically walks blindly through an opening, I feel like some speedwalking freak is going to smoke me in the side of the head... my left side, my sexier side. Obviously, this causes me great distress because as much as some of you might enjoy such random contact from strangers, i'm not really on that wagon per se.
As an avid walker (use 'em or lose 'em, legs I mean), I feel compelled to ask that the government install those weird circular mirrors that convenience stores and other high crime locales use so that people can see around corners and what the hell is lurking on the other side of doorways. Hell, this is probably a matter for Homeland Security. Let me explain...
If I get drafted by the Army or whatever and, by some stroke of luck or unluck or however you see it, get smoked in my hot face by some beast of a man with a mullet and a sixer of Pabst Blue mother frickin' Ribbon in his hand (added weight = added momentum = added force hurting my supple skin), that could put me on disability! I mean really, I can die for my country on their orders but can't get some protection at the Circle K or Little Dukes?!
Just had to vent. Install the mirrors-- anarchy cannot exist when it has to see itself. Oh, and Coke and Pepsi are the same thing (wouldn't that blow you mind? I bet your corpus collosum would commit suicide if you ever found that out to be undeniably true... hello, research grant anybody?)
Sippin' on gin and juice,
~The Styles
Every frickin' time I come to a doorway, hallway or other area where one typically walks blindly through an opening, I feel like some speedwalking freak is going to smoke me in the side of the head... my left side, my sexier side. Obviously, this causes me great distress because as much as some of you might enjoy such random contact from strangers, i'm not really on that wagon per se.
As an avid walker (use 'em or lose 'em, legs I mean), I feel compelled to ask that the government install those weird circular mirrors that convenience stores and other high crime locales use so that people can see around corners and what the hell is lurking on the other side of doorways. Hell, this is probably a matter for Homeland Security. Let me explain...
If I get drafted by the Army or whatever and, by some stroke of luck or unluck or however you see it, get smoked in my hot face by some beast of a man with a mullet and a sixer of Pabst Blue mother frickin' Ribbon in his hand (added weight = added momentum = added force hurting my supple skin), that could put me on disability! I mean really, I can die for my country on their orders but can't get some protection at the Circle K or Little Dukes?!
Just had to vent. Install the mirrors-- anarchy cannot exist when it has to see itself. Oh, and Coke and Pepsi are the same thing (wouldn't that blow you mind? I bet your corpus collosum would commit suicide if you ever found that out to be undeniably true... hello, research grant anybody?)
Sippin' on gin and juice,
~The Styles
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