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Group Two
Sunday, 5 February 2012
Man Whores

You know those guys who are always telling women they're beautiful and always saying almost inappropriately-encouraging things to people, and always talking about how we're all brothers and sisters, and basically just seem like they should be around a campfire somewhere leading a boy scout troop in a round of Kumbaya?

I have this theory.

Basically, men want sex, right? Don't get me wrong; I know that men also want support and companionship and blah blah blah, but no matter how politically correct we're all being, we have to agree that sex is a huge motivator for men. Particularly for young men whose brains and libidos haven't fully developed.

Women catch on to this real fast. And while there is basically one kind of man (the kind who want it), there are three types of women: The kind who make men work for it, the kind who manipulate and use men to get other things from them, like money or status, and then the ones who just give it away for whatever reason. These are the ones with the Crazy in them, who seek approval from men and eventually wind up burning your house down.

This third kind of woman deserves our sympathy, obviously, because she won't ever find what she's looking for unless she makes some drastic changes. Men do not value women like this. This is the kind of girl who gets way too many tattoos and goes to Vegas a lot and get drunk all the time and go "WHOOO!" Men don't value these women because they just give it away for free, and guys never have to work for it.

WOmen, on the other hand, want men to admit that they have feelings. They want romance. They want committment. They might be attracted to guys who skydive while wrestling alligators, but at the end of the day they want that guy to come home and tell her he loves her.

The guys I'm talking about today, the Kumbaya guys who cry all the time and want everyone to be impressed with how sensitive they are, are exactly like the WHoo Girls who drink too much. They have the thing that women want and they give it away for free. Women don't have to work for it.

They're basically man whores.

Anyway, that's my theory. I came up with this theory because there's this one particular guy I know who does this all the time and I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was about him that annoyed me so much.

But now I know. And now, you do too.


Posted by voodoo_chicken_bones at 4:18 PM EST
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Thursday, 2 February 2012
A Week In Hell

I have had the week in Hell, and to prove it I can tell you that two different people have told me that I need Jesus. Both of them assumed that I don't already know Jesus, I guess, which is weird.

I was getting off the train this morning and I saw two Chinese kids come running through the gate the other way, screaming at each other in Chinese. And right behind them were a Chinese man and woman - The woman went right through but the man couldn't get his card to work to open the gate. And he stood there frantically waving the card in front of the reader, so I kind of tapped his arm and then swiped my own card over it to let him in. And then he stopped and kind of half-bowed and said thanks, and when I turned around to get to work this MARTA cop was standing there and she was like "Only one card per rider, you don't supposed to do that."

I don't supposed to.

I guess some people reach a certain age and they realize that they're never going to be more important than they already are. I call it the Barney Fife Effect.

A guy at work who is a total dick all day long to me, always tells me I need Jesus. He tells me to do stuff and then says I do it wrong, and he yells at me for not knowing stuff that he never told me. Also, he once went to a funeral where the woman's son said a prayer out loud, but because he was unchurched, he didn't pray right and so this guy had to correct him. Because he prayed wrong at his own mother's funeral.

And I'm the one who needs Jesus.

And then tonight I went to the pool to swim laps and when I got out of the car, my door dinged this old man's door, and he got out of the car screaming at me. He was like "Jesus Christ! Show some respect for the CAAHH!" (He was from Boston I guess). I just kind of looked at him like I didn't understand English. I looked at the car and it wasn't even scratched, and for about .002 seconds I considered yelling back at him, but then I just walked away. It was a long day.


Posted by voodoo_chicken_bones at 8:19 PM EST
Updated: Thursday, 2 February 2012 8:32 PM EST
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Saturday, 21 January 2012
Saturday

Lots of my Facebook friends tell me I should blog, so I do. Not that I do it for them, or get upset that I don't think anyone actually reads it. I'm not an attention whore, and it would be difficult for me to get upset with people for not taking the time to read, when it takes me over a year to read a single book, and there are only a few blogs that I even read. Although to be fair, none of those other blogs are nearly as interesting as mine.

So its Saturday and I got up and was messing around on Facebook, watching 30 Rock on Netflix, and then I worked out and ate breakfast while I was watching DVR'ed episodes of Young Justice from the Cartoon Network. Now I'm blogging and then I'm going to volunteer at the Lawrenceville Co-Op and then I'm going to swim laps. I don't believe in living with expectations, but even if I did, I wouldn't expect anyone to find that the least bit interesting, unless they were a dissociative schizophrenic tracking my every move, which I just conveniently outlined on this blog for everyone to see. Maybe I am an attention whore, because suddenly it seems like it would be flattering to be stalked by a dissociative schizophrenic. If she was pretty.

A Facebook friend said that she was notified by her carrier that someone was repeatedly attempting to hack her account by answering her security questions, and it occurred to me that there are lots of people who know me well enough to know the name of the dog I had when I was 12, but hate me enough to hack all my accounts and announce that I've just discovered I have a dwarf fetish.

That would be a good way to measure character. Another way would be how long it would take people who know you to call 911 or start Heimliching you if you choked on a bone.

I have to get out more.


Posted by voodoo_chicken_bones at 9:00 AM EST
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Thursday, 19 January 2012
Working Out

Whenever I tell people I'm working out, they always say "Good for you" in the way I imagine they would say to a giant retarded man who just wrote his name with a crayon.

I just got back from swimming laps for the first time in probably five years. It was harder than I remember it being and it made me think about my friend Philip who used to drive me to swim team practice every day when we were in high school. I took it for granted that he did that for me everyday and probably never seemed as appreciative as I should have been. My mind has been going to some pretty dark places lately.

Anyway, I also thought how weird it is that I can't dance and I can't juggle and I can barely even walk, but when I get in the water I can still swim.

I've always swam ever since I was a baby. I think someone must have just pushed me in the water and I probably learned to swim just to spite all my siblings standing at the side of the pool laughing at me. I know I wasn't one of those cool aquababies who are born in a tank of water, because both my parents are about 10 years too old to have been hippies, although if the were 10 years younger I'm sure I would have been an aquababy, and another fifteen years younger I would have learned to use a waterbong.

God I started off talking about working out and then I started talking about swimming and then I started talking about how my parents are too old to be hippies. I will talk about working out next time.


Posted by voodoo_chicken_bones at 12:01 AM EST
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Tuesday, 17 January 2012
The Douchebag that I see on The Train everyday

OK so this is a picture that I drew of the douchebag that I see on the train. It doesn't really look much like him although I did kind of capture the essence of his moustache, which is really all I ever notice anyway about his looks. In fact, it's so uncommon to see a guy with just a moustache and no beard that once I worked with a guy and we called him Mr. Moustache because then everyone would know who we were talking about and not go "Who?"

Anyway this guy gets on the train before I do, which I know because he's there when I get on at Peachtree Center. This guy is a talker, the kind of guy who never met anyone he didn't annoy the crap out of. I've seen him sitting next to businessmen, construction workers, college kids, nuns, doctors, and every time he seems to be telling them his whole life story and every time it's completely different. To hear him tell it, he has 100 kids and they're all super-genius rockstar ninja astronauts. He's worked offshore oil rigs and wrestled alligators and scaled glaciers. He knows every thing there is to know about every subject there is. And he's not afraid to tell you everything he's ever done and everything he knows. Once I told him that I knew three of the Doobie Brothers, just to see what he'd say, and he said he knew the other three.

I feel bad for him but more than him I feel bad for the people who listen to him, and more than that for the people who actually seem to believe him. And this guy is a businessman, not some homeless guy rambling aimlessly. But still people sit around him nodding and conversing as if the things he has to say are not the most boring and stupid crap they've ever heard.

Poor, dumb people.


Posted by voodoo_chicken_bones at 6:57 PM EST
Updated: Friday, 20 January 2012 5:28 AM EST
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Thursday, 5 January 2012
China

When I was growing up, the Russians were the bad guys. Everyone was afraid of them and no one liked them and we were all certain that they were going to nuke us sooner or later. Ronald Reagan took care of them, though. And Sylvester Stallone.

It was easy not to like the Russians because I didn't really know many Russians. No one I knew spoke Russian. They lived behind an IRON CURTAIN, which I knew wasn't physically, literally real, but still. Iron. They ate weird food and they were all crazy, and every time you turned around you heard about people defecting from Russia. Come on, even they didn't want to live in Russia.

Eventually, the Berlin Wall came down, Rocky beat that monster Russian guy, and the rest of us all grew to realize that Russian chicks are insanely hot.

But now people are talking like China is going to be the big bad, like they're building up their military and all that. I don't know why, except of course that they're Communists and we're not, so we have to hate each other. But I hope it's not true, because I don't think I'll ever not like China.

China is Chinese food and all that cool kung fu and stuff. When we were kids, we tried to dig holes to China. I knew tons of people who were Chinese, although in fairness probably a lot of them weren't really Chinese, they were Asian and I just assumed they were Chinese. But whatever, I hope nothing comes from all this talk about China.


Posted by voodoo_chicken_bones at 8:35 PM EST
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New Year
Topic: Enthusiasm

I didn't make a New Year's Resolution to start working out and to get in better shape or lose weight or anything like that. I just started doing it on New Year's.

Five or six years ago I did the same thing, I planned out everything I was going to eat each day and I worked out each morning as soon as I got up, and I lost a ton of weight.

The trick I think is not to think too much about the future or what you want or where you want to be in a month or a year, just to think about each day and what you're doing and where you are. Kind of like Yoda said to Luke in the swamps of Degobah. EVeryone says you're supposed to set goals and always keep in mind where you want to be, but to me that's self-defeating. The rewards of taking care of yourself are not far off in the future; they're more immediate. If I have any goal at all, it would be for every woman who's ever rejected me to think of me and suddenly re-examine every choice they've ever made.

I almost died a couple years ago. I went into a coma and all my organs were shutting down. I don't like talking about it because it's basically unpleasant, naturally, but also because I don't want to come off like one of those douche bags who talks about a personal crisis to manufacture sympathy. I've been accused of that, although mostly just by people who do it themselves, and I think they felt like whatever sympathy and attention I got was just that much more sympathy and attention that they weren't getting.

I think the more douchey a person is, the quicker they are to recognize douche-like qualities in others.

But this brings up my second thought for the night, and that is that I promised myself not to be one of those douchebags who talks about it every time they work out. I know several people like that, and I want to stop them each time and say "Dude, NO ONE GIVES A CRAP!" I know it's important to you, but talking about your workout to other people is like telling people that your baby is the most perfect baby ever, or just telling someone how funny and awesome you are without actually being funny and awesome.

But I am feeling good about it and I'm not sure what to do with all the pessmism and negativity that I usually carry around with me. This sucks.


Posted by voodoo_chicken_bones at 8:15 PM EST
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Tuesday, 27 December 2011
Million Dollar Money-Making Ideas
Topic: Texts To Jennifer

http://www.bigmonster.net/id493.html 

I am always coming up with ideas so that I can make a million dollars, and I text them to Jennifer at random intervals. However, lacking money, time, business acumen, or any ambition at all, I just keep track of my ideas by posting them on this website that no one reads.

Candy Fingernails
 
As far as I know, no one has ever actually manufactured candy fingernails, although it just seems so natural that it's amazing no one thought of this 100 milion years ago, and there aren't cave drawings of kids being chased by dinosaurs and chewing on their candy fingernails.
 
It's been at least since caveman days that mothers have been teaching their kids not to chew on their fingernails, and not long after that since women have been self-concious about it, and thought the practice makes them unattractive.
 
Press-On Candy fingernails are the perfect solution for parents who have just given up ever trying to teach their kids self-discipine. They say to your kids "Just go ahead and do whatever we've been trying to teach you not to." They can also be marketed to young adults who've just moved out of strict, repressive homes, who want a safe and much less disgusting way to say to their parents "Hey look at me, I can bite my fingernails all I want, and the candy-making geniuses at the Press-On Candy Fingernails Company will back me up on that." Also a much less wordy way to say that last thing, too.
 
You know those candy necklaces that kind of taste like sweettarts and don't look anything like a real necklace that a person would actually wear? That's how the candy fingernails would look initially. But then you know how there's really expensive candy that only grown-ups eat, like Dove chocolates or those chocolate balls rolled in chopped up nuts and wrapped in foil? That's how I'm thinking of the grown up Press-On Candy Fingernails: Not necessarilly chocolate, but all expensive and grown up like gourmet Jolly Ranchers shaped like fingernails.

A Camera That Looks Like A Gun
 
I don't know for sure but I imagine one of the scariest things in the entire universe would be staring down the barrel of a gun, knowing you're about to die.

Also, again, I don't know for sure, but I imagine that one of the most pants-crapping scarediest human expressions is the one a face makes right before a bullet tears through it.
 
Unfortunately, unless you're a cold-blooded insane killer who's actually looked someone in the face as you've pulled the trigger and watched them die, no one really knows what this expression looks like.
 
This is what gave me the idea for the Camera That Looks Like A Gun. Just point and click, and you'll know what people look like when they think they're about to die. Just think of how fun that would be. You could have a booth like at a county fair that sold pictures of people to show them what they looked like when they thought they were about to die. You'd have to keep it real, and so every 10th or 20th one you would probably have to actually shoot someone, but that's what signed releases are for.
 
Also, if I'm going to sell these, I'm going to recommend that The Camera That Looks Like A Gun not be used to take candid shots of high-ranking government officials or members of their immediate families.

Hamburgers Made Out of Hotdogs

Once on The Cosby Show, Theo and Cliff talked about making "Bacon Burger Dogs". As far as I know, they never explained what the bacon burger dog was made out of, but it did look like something that was on a hamburger bun and not a hot dog bun.
 
It got in my head and for years it just bounced around in there for many years. I watched every episode of The Cosby Show and I never saw a meat grinder in their kitchen, nor did I ever see one of these devices that makes hot dog-shaped hamburgers, so I can only assume that a Burger Dog was just hot dogs cut vertically and laid out on a hamburger bun.
 
This idea is neither one of those ideas, and yet both of those ideas at the same time, and also the complete opposite of both of those ideas combined. Did I just blow your mind with the complete awesomivity of this idea?? If not, you must be dead inside.
 
Because what I'm talking about is the total and complete deliciousness of a hotdog but in the awesomely convenient form of a hamburger. So, basically, a hot dog in the shape of a hamburger. It's a two-pronged idea: First, it would be pre-cooked and pre-packaged hot dog burgers, but also a meat grinder that would turn regular hot dogs into ground meat that could then be shaped into burgers and cooked.


TVs That Won't Turn Off
 
...So then burglars will always think you're home. There's not much more to say about this one, it's pretty self-explanatory.


The Bluetooth Car Alarm That Takes A Picture of The Douchebag Who Is Stealing Your Car and Forwards The Picture To Your Cell Phone And To The 911 Operator
 
God, why is there not one of these already??
 


Posted by voodoo_chicken_bones at 5:50 PM EST
Updated: Tuesday, 27 December 2011 8:47 PM EST
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Thursday, 22 January 2009
Chik Fil-A
Topic: Enthusiasm

Another Conversation With A Guy From Work:

ME: "Man, I love Chik Fil-A"

NEW GUY: "Yeah, it's....chicken and a pickle, it's really really good."

ME: "It's everything you ever wanted...on a bun!"

NEW GUY: "Have you ever written commercials for the stuff that you like?"

ME: "Why do you ask that?"

NEW GUY: "Do you think Chik Fil-A should get a Nobel Prize for chicken?"

ME: "Actually, I don't think there is a Nobel Prize for chicken. And if you go around handing out Nobel Prizes for everything, they lose all meaning."


Posted by voodoo_chicken_bones at 2:42 PM EST
Updated: Sunday, 25 January 2009 2:47 PM EST
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Tuesday, 20 January 2009
Twix
Topic: Enthusiasm

A conversation with a guy at work:

ME: "I love Twix."

NEW GUY: "Yeah...they're really good..."

ME: "It's a cookie, it's candy, you never know what's going on with it. It's like a party in my mouth. I think whoever invented Twix should get the Nobel Prize for candy."

NEW GUY: "I don't think that there actually is a Nobel Prize for Candy..."

ME: "Well, they should invent one just for this guy."


Posted by voodoo_chicken_bones at 2:41 PM EST
Updated: Sunday, 25 January 2009 2:42 PM EST
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