Monday, March 28, 2005

Easterrific

Did everyone have a flipping crazy mad insanely awesome Easter like me?!?!?! Great. That's just great. Superb. For our Easter party (!) we painted the walls yellow and purple and slapped on some Fancy Egg wallpaper and then there was a clown who juggled newborn bunnies (he dropped one and it made a sound like a grape) and the clown was wearing bunny ears and there were strangers in trenchcoats grilling rabbits on a spit and the Easter Bunny was there with his Hammer Of Doom Followed Shortly Thereafter By Resurrection and he hit me right in the face with it and I died and went to New Jersey for two hours that seemed like years and then I magically came back to life and now I'm a high-level ad executive for a company that I'm not allowed to talk about (or they'll kill me!). Also there was an exact replica to scale of the Leaning Tower of Pisa in the backyard and it was built entirely of chocolate and it was filled with five tons of chocolate wrapped in cheap tinfoil wrapping material and the kids were jumping for joy and they played in it for almost thirty minutes before it melted and then the Easter Bunny came running in and blindsided one of them with the Hammer and he died for ten minutes and when he came back he said he had taken a quick visit to the zoo but all the animals were hungry and then suddenly the lion was loose, dear Lord, the lion is hungry for human flesh. The Easter Bunny just kept following the kid around with the Hammer after that and shouting something about the Chosen One and we all just laughed and laughed at the Easter Bunny because he is such a card except for my Aunt Nancy who kept crossing herself and going on and on about "the Satan." She's weird. Later on, Abraham Lincoln drove through the living room wall in his giant H2 Hummer and jumped out and he and the EB fought to the death. Lincoln won, of course, because he cheated and used his Stretch Armstrong superpowers, but then some dude I've never seen ran up and shot him in the head, which basically killed the whole mood of the party. We spent the rest of the day trying to vacuum up all the stubborn bunny fluff. That crap was all over the place.

Guitar tab of the week: Say It Ain't So by Weezer

Monday, March 21, 2005

Songs playing in the background while I prepared to post pics:

Art Is Hard by Cursive
You're the Ocean by Teitur
Whoops, I OD'ed by NOFX
She's Lost Total Control by Ryan Adams
Lessons by Rush
Backend of Forever by Coheed and Cambria

The absolute drudgery of complete sickerness.

This entry has been typed in the midst of a sneezing fit that has spanned at least two minutes and up to 73 sneezes. If I weren't so disconnected from close contact with my magical best friend Advil Cold & Sinus, I might consider checking into that being a fit of the record-breaking variety. Those don't come along just every day, you know. I am barely conscious and should not even really be doing this right now. I may end up typing something completely nonsensical about pigeon hunting and regicide if I don't stop soon.

Silent Hill 4 update: I'm in the hospital now. With those things. Yes. They belch when you hit them with a rusty axe or a shovel. P.S. This is so like one of my family reunions.

Guitar Tab of the Week: This a new feature wherein I hone my musical and guitarrific knowledge by leeching off of the talent of well-established musicians. I'll open with one of my favorite guitar riffs of the century--Soul to Squeeze by Red Hot Chili Peppers. Can we say underrated? Well, I can. This intro kicks my face in everytime I play it:

e:---------------------------------------
B:---------------------------------------
G:------2-----4b54p2-------------2---
D:---2----------------------2h4-------
A:0--------0----------0--0-------------
E:---------------------------------------

e:-----------------------------------------
B:---------------------------------5----------
G:-------2-----------2-----4/6-----6\4--2--
D:----2--------2---------------------------
A:-0--------0-----0-----0------------------
E:-----------------------------------------

e:----------------------------------------------------------------
B:----------------------------------------------------------------
G:-------2-----4b5p2-------------2---------2----------------------
D:----2---------------------2h4---------2--------2-----2----0-----
A:-0--------0---------0--0-----------0--------0-----0-------------
E:-----------------------------------------------------------3-----3--

e:-----------------------------------
B:-----------------------------------
G:--------2-----4b5p2-------------2--
D:-----2---------------------2h4-----
A:--0--------0---------0--0----------
E:-----------------------------------

e:----------------------------------------
B:---------------------------------5--------
G:--------2-----------------4/6-----6p4p2-
D:-----2--------2-----2-------------------
A:--0--------0-----0-----0----------------
E:----------------------------------------

e:-----------------------------------
B:-----------------------------------
G:--------2-----4b5p2-------------2--
D:-----2---------------------2h4-----
A:--0--------0---------0--0----------
E:-----------------------------------

So there you have it. That sound you hear is your cerebellum fusing to your skull as your brain attempts to wrap around the awesomeness of the above tablature. And I didn't even post the second half of the riff! Or the solo! I have to wear a helmet when I play the solo because things around me become charged with awesomeness and start exploding. One time I played the solo for Kristina and she had four seizures followed by an epiphany and then two more seizures. So. Be careful with that.

Anyways. My home-ees and home-ettes. Keep it locked down for me.

Friday, March 18, 2005

Stupid, stupid diaryland.

This entry exists solely to defame all things diaryland. Here we are on the cusp of an amazing new era of amazingness wherein all of the coolest people alive will join together in the greatest webring known to man: The Three Blogateers. And yet. My diaryland page is completely nonfunctional. Which has caused my mood to shift up to somewhere near "Angry, Flailing, Possibly Drunk Fellow with the Crazy Eyes." But I digress. Whatever that means.

So until D-land gets it together, I'll be camped out here, spouting insults at no one in particular.

Call me.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Bang-a-fricking-rang my dudes!!!

Here are some things that I've thought about today:

- What if there were giant ants? I mean, like, if they were just a normal part of life and everyone had come to accept it. And every once in a while a pack of giant ants would pop up from their underground lairs and raid a whole city, killing off like 72-87% of its population. You know, everyone would just act like if a tornado or earthquake had occured, all, "Hey guys did you hear about Chicago oh my goodness that is so sad," and, "Yes that's right unfortunately Rita was carried off by one of them last week can you believe it?" That would be pretty weird if it was just like another common occurence. Because if something like that happened to us right now we would be like, "OH MY FREAKING GOD. FREAKING FREAKING FREAKING JESUS FREAKING MY GOD THE ANTS THERE ARE ANTS THEY ARE FREAKING HUGE AND I AM A NEWS ANCHOR PLEASE FLEE YOUR HOMES. TAKE TO THE STREETS AND RUN OH PLEASE GOD TELL ME THAT I AM DREAMING MY FRIEND." Or something.

- I wonder what it will be like when they finally invent teleportation, because wow, that is going to be insane. No more thirteen and a half hours drives to visit the relatives. Seriously. No more drives to...anywhere. Think about it. What are they going to do with all of the roads? What will happen to all of that boring space in between the metropoli? The teleporting is going to be triple-sweet, but...I will weep for the farmland on the day of its invention.

- Being a dog would be odd. I mean, first of all, you're stupid, but for a lot of people that's really nothing new. So you can work past that. But like, you smell the hell out of everything. Somebody at the other end of the house burps and you are presenting them with a list of things that they've eaten in the last 12 to 14 hours. That has got to suck. I mean, sure, there are some great smells out there, but to me it always seems like there are a lot more awful ones, and those mothers are everywhere. Of all the senses that have to be amped up, you know? It's like God resented the dogs and envied their carefree happy-go-luckiness and so decided to afflict them with superfreak smeller glands. I bet they used to walk on two legs, too. Sometimes God can be so hateful and it hurts my feelings. *Job shout out*

- I just think that if people could see some of the things that are going on in their own bodies at any given time, a lot of us would really lose it. Seriously, there is some really wicked stuff going on in there. And all of it has weird names. Like...um, mastoids and shit.

- How about if you could throw a party and just invite every celebrity/person of note that you are constantly swooning over? And they actually showed up!? There's just one catch. Your brain has been transplanted in to the body of Kim Jong Il. What do you do? What do you do?

- I think the reason that a lot of people go scuba-diving is that they secretly want to run out of oxygen down there, just to see what would happen. That is bad news.

- If I could get the telephone number 573-825-3825, and when people asked for my number I wrote down 57-FUCK-FUCK, do you think anyone would call me?

- Sometimes I think about that whole theory that every time you make a decision, an alternate universe is created with another you that made the opposite decision. If that is true, then I bet my other MEs have done some really crazy stuff, man. Like, there's a ME that's gay and a ME that owns Microsoft and a ME that dumps Eliza Dushku for Scarlet Johansson and a ME that sells hubcaps on a street corner and a ME who is a Mormon and a ME who is writing this diary entry but decides to use expletives a lot more liberally and a ME who is taking needlepoint classes and a ME who has been dead for three years from a severe case of botulism and a ME who has one leg and climbed Mount Everest and a ME who just adores overalls and a ME who decides to continue this entry.

Peace, bitches.

The new The Mars Volta

So I am listening to the new The Mars Volta, and the new The Mars Volta is stroking my ear drums delicately. The new The Mars Volta is treating the auditory receptors in my brain just the way they like to be treated. The new The Mars Volta is rocking my planet and additional planets up to and including the universe. Here is my new uber-review of the new The Mars Volta: buy the new The Mars Volta or I sha'n't call you ever again. The new The Mars Volta is good. The new The Mars Volta is better than good. The new The Mars Volta is great and grand and trespasses unregretfully on sacred burial ground. The new The Mars Volta is just that awesome. The new The Mars Volta is titled Frances the Mute. The new The Mars Volta. The new The Mars Volta. The new The Mars Volta.

Friday, March 11, 2005

The new "IN" list.

You will have a party and invite all of your friends.
You will serve chilled beverages including such as Ketel One.
You will release doves into the open night air when everyone least expects it.
You will take umbrage with anyone whose garb offends your delicate sense of style.
You will wear a Winnie the Pooh costume and smoke hundreds of cigarettes in a maniacal fashion, with greatly exaggerated movements.
At the stroke of 11:43, you will gather your guests in a tiny, well-lit room where everyone is forced to crowd together very closely, and you will announce the following through a shiny new PA system:

- Diagonal is the new sideways. This instantly renders obsolete the recently released motion picture. Anyone caught watching said motion picture will be beaten with a sock. This sock will be known to contain at least 205 quarters and possibly a small brick.

- Prague is the new Paris. As such, Paris Hilton is officially no longer popular and will die in a tragic "accident" involving a Jack Russell Terrier and six pounds of cabbage. Anyone in this room who is known to have planned a trip to France will be politely asked to cancel. Immediately. Also, due to this change, sickly-looking is the new unshaven.

- Saying "______ is the new ______" is the new "hot or not." This should be self-explanatory and anyone who is having trouble understanding this should take a coat hanger and just go bend it into silly little shapes or something.

- Top-shelf sake is the new martini. Anyone drinking top-shelf sake becomes instantly hot and should be slept with immediately barring blood relation and/or court orders. People seen to be openly drinking martinis are probably diseased and should be avoided at all costs. Martinis are the new drink of the impoverished and underfed.

- Green-ish blue is the new blue-ish black. Bruises are expected to conform to this new fashion as well. Use makeup as necessary to correct any violations to this rule. Blue-ish black decorative items and clothing should be burned and discarded as quickly as possible.

- Dead is the new popular. Suicides are still unfashionable unless explosives or personal sacrifice are directly involved. Faked deaths are completely unacceptable and anyone found to be alive after "dying" will have vampirism forced on them to ensure that they are eternally out of style.

- Ugly and messy are the new attractive. Bonus points are awarded for infrequent bathing and long, unkempt hair. Clothes that feature at least one stain will increase in value by about 200%, and people wearing anything crisp and new will be labeled "prudes" and teased incessantly. Weight gain and poor application of makeup and deodorant are a plus. It is now okay to play hacky sack again. Anyone seen shopping at The Gap should be mugged in the nearest conveniently inconspicuous alleyway.

- Parents are the new friends. Those known to live with their parents will advance two rungs on the social ladder effective 3/12/05. Secrets and detailed accounts of sexual encounters should now be openly shared with those who birthed you. Please note that stepparents are specifically excluded from this rule, and anyone caught buddying up with grandma or grandpa may find themselves inconveniently audited by the IRS.

- Hard rock is the new pop. Please dispose of all CDs containing boy band music or a person's name (i.e. Kelly Clarkson, etc.). Rap and R&B are accepted but not encouraged. Anyone with the ability to play an electric guitar with heavy distortion will receive a liberal increase in attention from the opposite sex. Indie rockers will be shown little or no respect and occasionally nudged into traffic. Any band that has anything to do with a piano will be shot on sight.

- Stupid and lazy is the new bulimic. Models will need to shake their current disorder in order to replace it with a complete inability to so much as write their own name. This should be an easy transition for most of them. Also, exercise is totally out of the question. Any model who is known to exercise on a regular basis after one month's time will be strapped down and force fed a medium-rare, 17 ounce T-bone steak (which they will NOT be allowed to purge).

- Goth is the new grunge. Black lipstick and fingernail polish will be required at all significant social gatherings, and at least four rings and a leather wristband should be worn at all times. Anyone who does not own a Bauhaus CD should purchase one immediately. Matrix trenchcoats are back. Anyone concealing a compact pistol or a stiletto is to be respected and feared.

- Ninjas are the new biker dudes. For reference material go here.

- "Crazy-go-nuts" is the new correct term to use when referring to someone's insanity.

- Achewood is the new Calvin and Hobbes.

- All references to cash or bling should be replaced with the word "spainch."

- It is still not okay to watch old homeless men fight for money, food, or shelter.

- The New Mustang is the new New Hummer. Anyone owning a Hummer should destroy it as violently as possible.

- Everyone should take a test to determine how many people like them. P.S. Post your scores in my guestbook. It'll be fun, mmmkay?

- Di. Rocks.

- Just kind of letting things vaguely trail off without really wrapping them up is the new way to end a webdiary entry.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Here are some dreams that I've had recently.

1. I live in a small apartment with my dad and my fake brother who does not exist. My fake brother has Down Syndrome. I am okay with that. Our apartment is apparently built into a shopping mall, because when I go out the front door, I am suddenly rollerblading at high speeds through crowds of shoppers (I would like to note that I have never donned inline skates in real life. Is that odd?). I am on my way to my job at a store which is apparently named Krog (???).
In retrospect, I am wondering if this store deals in general caveman supply. Not that it matters, because the work day goes by in a blur. Back to the important stuff.
Now I'm on the way home. New mode of transportation: skateboard. I am wearing a stupid helmet that I hate. I feel like I'm 13. The mall is empty and creepy. I do not slip and break any bones. I arrive at the apartment.
Dream Dad is mean and sarcastic, which is basically the total and complete opposite of Real Life Dad, who is so incredibly, insanely nice that if you so much as cough in his presence he will buy you a new car and pay your medical bills until you die. Dream Dad basically hates and resents DownSyn Bro and makes that very clear. Who is not having that? Me. So while we fight, Bro goes into the back room and arranges his mint condition NES games alphabetically in to three separate stacks by genre. Dad catches me with a left hook and turns into a monster. I magically pull a handgun out of nowhere but can't actually take the shot, because dude, that is my fricking dad over there, mmmkay?
*End*

2. I am in space. Space is cold. There is a beautiful, blazing white star just out of my reach. I cannot breathe. I am dying.

*End*

3. Zombies are in the house. I am trying to wake up because everyone I love is somewhere in the house and I am in the very back room of the house and the zombies are in the living room and they are dragging themselves along the floor because for some reason they are half-zombies with no legs to speak of and my GOD they are moving at the most agonizingly slow pace, inching towards the hallways where the bedrooms in which everyone is sleeping are located, hungry for brains and intestines. I am paralyzed. I am trying to wake up. I am trying to scream. I cannot move. I am trying to wake up.

*End*

4. I am a scientist. I am about to discover the cure for cancer. At the last moment, just as I am perfecting the synthesis of the two previously unknown elements which are involved in said cure, a large chimpanzee drops from the ceiling and clings to my head for dear life. Beakers full of valuable, unrecoverable substances crash to the floor as I flail wildly, legs and arms akimbo.

*End*

Other stuff:

I beat Silent Hill 3. Dude. That is just...wrong. When she ate that thing? Ick. *shudder* This is me recommending the Silent Hill series to everybody and their siblings.

New slang phrases I've decided to invent, meanings to be interpreted by the individual user (use amongst your friends):
"Juicin' it, hoes!"
"That is the stone cold hotness."
"You ain't berang, Flang."
"That jazzrabbit is stank on a flown sandwich."
"Sally is givin' it the slow rotor."
"Y'all drop the spainch at it."

Friday, March 04, 2005

We are all out of Marshmallow Peeps.

Here are some insults that I invented for people just like you who always have trouble coming up with good insults until it's too late to use them. You can use these anytime you want but maybe just say my name right after you are done with the insult so people can kind of know where it came from and everything. I know that you will probably just want to take credit for them and I guess that is okay. But if you're using them all the time maybe you should just send me 20 or 30 dollars in the mail. That seems fair to me.

So here's this insult, maybe you could use it on a lawyer or something:
How would you like if I took you to court, buddy? Huh? Maybe like I accuse you of embezzling or something. You can say you're all innocent, but I'm like, whatever he's a liar, and then I pay the jury off to convict you and then you're in prison for two to three years. PS Don't even try to come lookin' for me when you get out, because I will already be long gone and I will change a few letters in my last name so that you cannot ever find me. All this because you are the biggest stupid idiot jerkface.

Here's another one that you might use on that really big guy who is hitting on your girlfriend in the club:
Okay, man, listen, I know people that will have you in a headlock really soon if you can't just leave my female companion alone right now. Darn it, do not make me do this, okay? Alright, I am dialing on my goshdarn cell phone right now and you just get away from me. I am serious, back up. Bouncers! This man is harrassing me! You see what happens when you mess with me, buddy? I will follow you right to the door where they throw you out and you will see me behind this huge wall of bouncer and I will be giving you the middle finger with both hands. Do not even think about waiting for me in the parking lot because I want you to know that there are cameras everywhere in that parking lot and you will go to jail for assault, my friend. I am not even joking about that, you will be sued for punitive damages. I do NOT drive a '92 Honda.

Here is one I used on this stupid idiot police officer who decided that she could pull me over for supposedly running a red light that was completely yellow when I went through it:
Hey, listen, it is not my fault that your mother was always slapping you on your face and ears with a wooden spoon or a windshield wiper blade when you were a kid. I know you think you are the bigshot goshdarnit top dog with your shiny little badge there, sweetie, but that is just not the truth because I have rights too, do you understand that? It is okay for me to tell you that you are probably stupid even if you think you can file a false report on me and say that I allegedly assaulted you just because I am holding this Swiss Army knife while I am driving along at least ten miles under the speed limit. I am not going to curse at you but I want you to know that I have some really good ones in my head right now and I am thinking about you too, maybe that makes you mad but you cannot hit me because then I can defend myself and I will perform a citizen's arrest on you. You probably wish you had not even pulled me over now. That's because you are a stupid idiot who probably did not even learn to drive until you were 17 and I bet you still live with your mommy and she even tucks you in at night and then you pretend to sleep but when she leaves you just lay there in the dark and keep crying until you throw up. I'm sure it is hard for you to admit those things but that is okay because I am here for you, Nancy, and this was just an honest mistake so you just get back in your car and drive away now.

This is an insult I invented for if you are teenager and you have that one parent who is not getting up off of you ever:
Maybe you need to start watching the news more often. If you watched the news you would know that kids can divorce their parents now and they can just go live whereever they want to, like with me I might choose to live in a crack house where the man on the top floor is always screaming and the carpets have weird stains or perhaps I would like to move in with that nice European family down the road who always come outside without any clothes on in the mornings. Then every day I could be in their front yard naked and I would yell really loud that you're just a big fag. I would yell this so loud that everyone on the block would hear me and I bet they would think, "He's right, his dad is totally a fag." They know you're a fag because I told them about all the things you do that are faggy. Like, why are you even married to my stepmom? Is that so you will not have to tell everyone that you just love making out with other men? Is that why I have a curfew? So that I will not see you sneaking out at night to be with one of the nine boyfriends that you have? Maybe you should go buy a big book about parenting that will teach you how not to suck at it.

The next insult would be a good one to use if you met a really famous person who you were not particularly fond of:
Hold up there, Captain, I've got a few things I'm gonna need to say to you and yes you gaping A-hole I do need to say it right here in front of all of these press people. You are going to need to tell your pigfaced moron of a bodyguard to step off my brouhaha and go play with his Lincoln Logs for a minute. I just wanted you to know about how I have been writing to you for almost 3 years about how my great-grandma is in the hospital and she has been dying really slowly and painfully for a long time now. She says that she cannot pass on until she has your autograph and that is all she ever wanted in her whole life, I mean it would be a bonus if you would stop by her room for a minute and say some rap lyrics but whatever. Now her heart is broken and I think you should know that it's all your fault and now she is probably never going to die forever and she will just live like some sort of freaking crone until she gets so old that parts of her are always just falling off. What is really horrible is that she is just a liability and everyone in my family hates her, she even shot my mom a few years back, and now because of you we are never even going to get some good inheritance money from her. Maybe you never even read my letters and I'm betting that's because you were in some Third World country buying a sweatshop and picking out which of your child laborers you were going to transfer from your oil rig in the Pacific. That is pathetic because you are a multi-millionaire and I only asked you if I could borrow a measly ten grand that I promised to pay back. The only reason that I kept threatening to kill you in those letters is because I wanted you to see how badly I needed the money, and I did not mean to kill your dog with that poison I just thought he would get sick and you would understand that I meant business. And those calls I made to your agent where I said that I had kidnapped his wife, that was just a joke and maybe you should both lighten up a little. So why don't you and your model girlfriend who's probably slept with like 40 people just get in your fancy limo that I did not rig with a bomb and drive away. Just remember that you are the worst actor I have ever seen and I bet everyone secretly hates you.

This is an insult you can write in my guestbook after reading this entry:
OMG man that is the stupidest crap I have ever read in my whole life and Im 12 so you know what that is bunk. I have a insult for you how about set a popsicle on fire and then stick in you ear what do you think of that. you probably do not think anything about it because you're brain is retarded. I have this freind in the fourth grade, ok, he is my brother and he could even beat you up becuz your a sissy and I bet your a nerd too. What is wrong with u saying stuf about peeps dads becuz dude Im sorry your dad is like that but mine is awsum and maybe u need to go get theripy or sumthin. ROTFLMAO at how your an idiot.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

This test will determine how many people like you.

Let's begin.

1. The best idea that anyone ever came up with is not:
A) Polka
B) Death, in a very nonspecific sort of way
C) Those things that hold your mouth open while the dentist cuts you all over the place inside of your mouth, which is like the most delicately painful place to be cut, which makes you hate your dentist, because he obviously worships the devil in his free time
D) Stuff that gets moldy
E) Snakes
F) Anything that can or will melt
G) Escaped convicts
H) Jell-o commercials starring that one guy who seems to constantly be having an aneurysm, I think he had a TV show or something

2. The baby is crying. He is trying to tell you that:
A) You are starving him to death
B) The couch has been replaced by a shape-shifting spaceman that may or may not be from Venus
C) That suede ensemble is just not working for you
D) The cat is not sleeping; the cat is dead
E) He has some important questions for you about your current internet service provider
F) You should take him out of the crib sweet Jesus there are demons in the crib with him
G) He is not a Polaroid picture (he realizes that you might not get this joke)

3. Instructions to the local pizza place are as follows:
A) You need to go forwards for a while then maybe you should make a left
B) Just go down the street with the pink elephant that is not really there
C) You can't remember because the leaves are in the trees and the trees have a thing or two to say about that
D) Just keep going west for like two or three hours until you forget what is going on and try not to run out of gas in the bad neighborhoods
E) I forgot to mention that you are on piles of drugs including some primo Latvian smack

4. There's Greg, laying on the floor in front of you, and he's bleeding all over the place. Obviously you need to:
A) Tell Greg to apply pressure to the wound and hotfoot it before the cops show up
B) Siphon some gas from the neighbor's BMW and use it to set Greg aflame
C) Take a leisurely stroll through the nearby car graveyard and forget that you ever saw anything, in fact, you're starting to believe that it never really happened
D) Bribe the maid to keep her fat mouth shut
E) Drive up by Century Hospital and push Greg out as you go by
F) Put Greg in the hammock and hope he heals up okay

5. The waiter would like to inform you that you have a choice of beef, chicken or shrimp. You choose:
A) Beef
B) To punch the waiter in the hip
C) Pikachu
D) Baked Alaska
E) Basically anything that they will give you containing alcohol, because it will nicely complement the eight and a half Tequila Sunrises you plan to knock back before hitting the boardwalk

6. You have four dollars and three cents. You're on your way to buy:
A) Some dude's gall bladder from your friend Jeff
B) A giant corn dog twice the size of your brain, which in retrospect is perhaps not saying much
C) A Corgi with a salvage title

7. In the dream, you are surrounded by superintelligent alien ants. The ants:
A) Just want to borrow your soul for a minute, so lighten up bro
B) Need you to fill out this important paperwork as accurately as possible
C) Are conducting a survey and are very interested in your opinions
D) Probably aren't gay, but that one in the corner is making you a little nervous because it keeps just staring at you and doing something with its thorax
E) Would like to replace your blood with Kool Aid just to see if it kills you really fast, because human life is a joke to them and they don't really understand that you've got kids to take care of, dammit
F) Are dressing you up like Captain Kangaroo in preparation for something that is almost guaranteed to be humiliating

8. You are trapped in a room with:
A) No windows and no doors
B) Keanu Reeves and a board with a nail in it
C) All those books you've been meaning to read and just haven't had time for
D) Four million Canadians reciting the Kama Sutra word for word
E) That sweaty guy from the bus station who won't stop staring at you
F) A mirror and a light switch that doesn't work unless you're screaming
G) A Macintosh computer and the only thing on it is that frigging game Myst and let's face it, that is not going to entertain you for very long before you start getting sort of pissed
H) The ghost of someone completely unimportant
I) That dog from the Family Guy and a six pack of Diet Rite soda

9. You're hanging over the ledge and you're losing your grip on it. It is:
A) That stupid kid you've been trying to save for like a month now from all these different near-death situations
B) This month's Wired
C) A blueprint for a machine that could work for time travel but will probably just warm people up a little bit if they're cold
D) A monkey that is hanging on to another identical monkey that is hanging on to yet another identical monkey and this continues for quite some time
E) A picture of Dan Quayle that you bought on eBay that has his autograph on it, and what's funny about that is he spelled Quayle with an "i" instead of a "y" because apparently he is an idiot
F) Some sheet metal that you were using to tan with
G) A briefcase full of something really important like tube socks and there's lotion all over the handle by some strange twist of fate

10. That's the doorbell ringing but they're just going to have to wait because:
A) 24 is on
B) That guy pointing the gun at you shakes his head to indicate that you should not move
C) You've superglued yourself to the kitchen counter for the fourth time this week
D) You're in the shower singing along to Nat King Cole and there is some amazing dancing going on right now
E) It's probably just Sharon Osborne again, asking if she can borrow a lit match and a week-old half-eaten apple pie

Let tally your scores! Each letter is assigned a certain point value.
A: 2,000
B: -150
C: 7.76
D: the square root of 79 + X
E: basically just any random number
F: if you chose an F you basically just lose instantly
G: Pi
H: number of letters in the word anthropomorphism
I: look up the population of Pittsburg, Kansas and this is your point value for I

Add these numbers up to receive your Total Likeability Index and then compare it to the chart posted below.

-1,500 to 0: Basically the story here is that you're hated by everyone in the entire world. Everywhere you go things are thrown at you and I'm sure you've been beaten unconcious more times than you can really count. I am sorry that it has to be this way for you. Maybe you did something really bad in a past life.

1 to 100: My guess is that you're a really laid back guy or gal and that you have at least 18 people who admire you so much that it almost makes you sick and sometimes you just wish they would go home already, and quit using your Tivo as an excuse to come over.

101 to 2,305: People in this group probably aren't around to read this because most of them have been eaten by crocodiles by now or at the very least shot out a cannon into a flaming vat of petrol.

2,306 to 2,309: People in this group almost always win the lottery right before they die. So at least you'll get to have some friends for a day or two. Even if they're just looking for a Last Living Will And Testament shout-out.

2,310 to 8,605.461 This is your average Dick Smith or Jane Doe. They have the normal amount of friends and the normal amount of everything else as well and they die at a normal age of a normal cause. That is so friggin' boring. Give me a massive, flaming coronary while cliff-diving into rocks any day.

8,605.462 to 21,002 People in this category just want be loved and they will let you know by fawning all up over your junk until you are ready to serve them up a stiff ear smack on the rocks. You will tell them politely to step up off your rad chilies but they are not having that jive from you and they will continue trying to love you until a train comes by and finally, mercifully, carries them into the afterlife at speeds of 35 to 40 miles per hour. For British people: that is not very fast, okay?

21,003+: You possess some sort of strange psychic ability to bend others to your will. You snap your fingers, and that butler is up in your grill in like five seconds flat, all begging you not to hurt him and to spare his family and please don't make him water the ficus again because he's not that good with gardening and he knows that really pisses you off. But you tell him not to worry, because no matter what he does, it's just going to piss you off. You explain to him that basically you are just looking for an excuse to screw around with him, because he has this harelip thing going on and it sort of freaks you out. People who score higher than 21,003 are usually politicians or Martha Stewart.



If you liked this test, or even if perhaps you think that I am some sort of wino, maybe you should go out and tell all of your friends about it and have them come take it. Like right now. Okay?

Which kind of soup do you really not like?

Remember me? No, come on, I'm a friend of your mom's. My name is Chuck. You remember me. Chuck. Remember? Come on, let's go for a ride in my awesome '90 Porsche. You will enjoy it, I promise, with the winking and the nudging. Billy, let's go. I said let's go. Billy!

What is fun about skydiving: Sometimes the parachute is not going to open.
My new favorite webcomic: Achewood. It is so good and I just know you'll cold love it.
My new favorite diet: Everything I can see, that's what I eat, I eat all of it, and then I might burp or drink some iced tea. I might put liquor in this iced tea. That is my favorite thing. Putting liquor in my iced tea. Other than my kids and my wife or whatever. That is basically what I'm all about.
My new favorite kind of grass: Crabgrass
My new favorite nickname for my left index finger: Itchy Love Wand
My new least favorite noise: Thousands of children, all exhausted from a long night of weeping, simultaneously screaming my name four times.
My new favorite form of recreation: Desensitizing apes to violence by locking them in a room where the walls are covered with pictures of me hitting apes in the shoulder or occasionally the face. The apes in these pictures might have some fake blood on them and some are crying. Really it is just my friend Davis in different ape suits. I don't know where he got them.
My new least favorite way to get wet: Wading through someone else's murky, day-old bathwater to retrieve my lost teddy bear.
My new favorite therapy: Just hitting people until they shut up about their stupid problems.
The last time I remember thinking about Skeletor: probably a couple days ago
The last time I flew over the handlebars of my bike and landed on my head: 1988
What I dreamed about when they put me under for hernia surgery: Two white lions fighting over an old grape.
A story I wrote that is not even a little bit true at all: Okay, so there's this police chief. Okay? So the chief falls in love with a bag of muffins, and the bag of muffins is already promised to another man, so he's walking around all dejectedly when he sees this really awesome car and falls in love with the car (or it might've been a cow...anyways) he's sitting there trying to convince the car (cow) that he loves it when in comes Kiefer son of Donald Sutherland with his special Anti-Terrorist Handgun (in other words it's fricking huge) and blows like twelve holes in the car's (cow's) gas tank (kidneys), causing it go up in flames (moo a lot) and eventually explode (bleed to death). The unlucky, heavy handed, perfectionist chief wanders off into the woods until he comes to a clearing. He spends about an hour in the clearing (playing hacky sack and talking to himself) before he realizes that he's totally head-over-heels in love with it (the clearing). So he hugs the clearing (trees) and kisses the clearing (dirt) and then he gets in an argument with the clearing (grass) and tells the clearing (ladybug) he's fed up with it. He starts to leave but realizes how much he truly loves the clearing (clearing) and decides to marry the clearing and settle down. Unfortunately, he soon realizes the clearing is not in fact a clearing...but a grotto. He screams at the grotto (rusty, discarded piece of a lawn ornament), "I thought I knew you! Why weren't you honest with me?!" He runs from the forest bawling his eyes out just as the Keef drops a nuke on the clearing (grotto) to flush out some terrorists. Good timing, enraged, unlucky, heavy handed, perfectionist chief. Finally, the chief stumbles upon a small pond (kiddie pool) in which he finds a small goldfish whom he names Filibusterifery XXX, Esquire. The Third. The End. Or IS IT?!?!?!?
Something about me that nobody knows: One time when I was a kid I knew this guy who snorted red pepper up his nose. I think he's running for government office now.
Something about me that is false: I remember being born, and woah, dude, that was an experience.
A place I went last week: grocery store
One thing I think about whenever I'm all alone: How far could I pitch a gopher?
I have no legs. What am I? You are a starfish.
No. You're an amputee.
Close enough. I'm just glad that's over with.
Please stop hitting on our female sales representatives. I'm sorry. Is that against policy or something?
No. It's just that they're all either married or over 60. Oh.
Way I'm going to end this entry: If I keep praying, God says I can win the lottery. God is the bomb.