Diary of a Fat Man: My Favorite Posts

Went Home

Mon, 03 Apr 2006 13:41:01 GMT

My brother made a apropos observation about my trip home Saturday: "You drove three hours to get here, you ate lunch, you saw Dad for 30 minutes, and now you have to drive three hours back." That was Saturday in a nutshell.

Since my dad was in ICU, the visits are restricted to certain times during the day and only for 20 minutes. He was hooked up to four different machines that read his vitals, pumped air into him, and dripped drugs into him.

The last time I saw my dad in a hospital, it was about ten years ago after his first stroke. Even two hours after his stroke, he was fine and bitching about needing a smoke.

Saturday, he was strapped down to his bed to keep him from taking off the CPAP mask that was forcing oxygen into him. His arms and legs were bruised and looked like someone had been beating him with a hammer.

The good news was that he was a lot more cognizant of his surroundings and although I couldn't understand him because the mask made it hard for him to talk, he was trying to talk and it seemed that his words were coherent.

When I was driving home, Robert called me and said that they took him off the CPAP machine and his O2 sat was staying up, which is a really good sign.

So, I'll keep my fingers crossed and hope for the best.

On to things that are allegedly more fun...while I was gone, Laurie decided to paint the living room. I came home and all of the furniture was in the middle of the living room and she was in the back yard cleaning off paintbrushes and rollers (and spraying the kids down with icy cold water).

We're not even close to being finished, but I think it's going to look good when we are.

Yesterday, we did some more painting, took the kids to the park to play baseball, I bought a cheapo $40 grill since my old one broke over winter, and grilled some bad-assed burgers.

That is all for today.

Get back to work.

More fun with Spammers

Thu, 30 Mar 2006 16:07:09 GMT

----- Original Message ----
From: chris@theeclipse.org
To: ahmed dikko <ahmeddikko204@yahoo.fr>
Sent: Thursday, March 30, 2006 10:04:24 AM
Subject: Re: Why the delay???

DIV {margin:0px;}

Faithful Ahmed,

My apologies for the delay! I was participating in a candlelight vigil for the great Starr Jones. What a tragedy! She is such a special woman and I was so afraid that this was really going to be the end for her. I can't believe what the press is trying to say about her. I don't believe it for a moment! Neither should you. Of course she didn't injure herself when trying to lick a can of Spam clean of the delicious, gelatinous meat jelly. Everyone knows that her illness was because she was getting her breasts reduced. The American media disgusts me.

I hope you don't think me greedy, but the amount you specified in your latest email is well below my expectations. I'm taking great risks by establishing your front here in the US. I believe that a fairer percentage would be 90% for me and 10% for you.

If those terms are agreable, I will have my CPA forward you the required account information.

Yours in victory,

Chris

----- Original Message ----
From: ahmed dikko <ahmeddikko204@yahoo.fr>
To: chris@theeclipse.org
Sent: Monday, March 27, 2006 7:40:14 AM
Subject: Why the delay???

Dear Chris,

good day and How are you today?

I have been waiting to hear from you since after my last sent mail to you,hope you are all right,please do get back to me urgently and let me know your arrangement towards this transaction,please if you are not in a better position to handle this transaction with me kindly let me know earlier so that I will start making an urgent alternative arrangement without further delay.

I am eagerly waiting to hear from you to enable me decide what next to do.

Thanks for your understanding.

Remain Blessed.

Faithfully Ahmed.

Nouveau : téléphonez moins cher avec Yahoo! Messenger ! Découvez les tarifs exceptionnels pour appeler la France et l'international. Téléchargez la version beta.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

From: ahmed dikko <ahmeddikko204@yahoo.fr>
To: chris@theeclipse.org
Sent: Saturday, March 25, 2006 5:44:01 AM
Subject: Official Lodgement Receipt Attached

Dear Chris,

Thanks very much for your efforts.

I have agreed to give you 20% of the total sum and have maped out 5% for expenses.

I found it necessary to send the Official Lodgement Receipt of the deposit to you which was given to my late father on time of the deposit. Kindly go through the document and go ahead to finalize arragement from your side.

I hope the document will help you more for the information you may require and to enable you contact Anonymous Bank for further confirmation.

Yours,

AHMED.

Nouveau : téléphonez moins cher avec Yahoo! Messenger ! Découvez les tarifs exceptionnels pour appeler la France et l'international. Téléchargez la version beta.

Fun With Spammers

Fri, 24 Mar 2006 14:39:19 GMT

----- Original Message ----
From: chris@theeclipse.org
To: ahmed dikko <ahmeddikko204@yahoo.fr>
Sent: Friday, March 24, 2006 8:34:31 AM
Subject: Re: From AHMED DIKKO.

DIV {margin:0px;}

Dearest Ahmed,

Your gratitude causes great angst within me. I must shamefully admit that I'm assisting you with my interests in mind and not the interests of the poor souls living under the thumb of the beast Gbago. I'm torn, but happily the end result will be the downfall of the dark Sith rulers, even if my intentions are mostly personal.

The arrangements may take a day or two to execute, as all of my accounts are currently housed in the Cayman Islands and are restricted from receiving any deposits or debits, except from my two trust fund accounts currently based in NY. As only the executor of my father's will has signatory permissions on those accounts, I have to create a new account here in the States. I'm having my bank's President, Mr. Peter Griffith, transfer $20,000 over to a new account that I should have established by the close of business today.

In the meantime, forward me the information for your bank (e.g. IBAN and account numbers) so that I can establish it as a trusted account, able to transfer funds into my new account.

My financial manager, Jack Bauer, has given me some recommendations on what commodities that we might invest your funds in to achieve maximum return. He has a hot inside tip on a new biotech company called Sentox that is about to explode in the marketplace. He's estimating returns as high as 300%!

This is indeed an exciting time, dearest Ahmed.

As Salaam Alaikum,

Chris
----- Original Message ----
From: ahmed dikko <ahmeddikko204@yahoo.fr>
To: chris@theeclipse.org
Sent: Friday, March 24, 2006 6:33:25 AM
Subject: From AHMED DIKKO.

Dear Mr. Chris,

Thank very much for your response to my mail, your concern and your interest to be of help to me.

I have notified the bank where my late father deposited the money to inform them on my intention to transfer the money to your account based on your interest and efforts to help me out.

The bank responded and demanded the following information from you which will be used for the transfer process to get the money transferred to your account.

You are advised to forward the following information to me for submission to the bank:

1. Your full Name, Address, telephone and fax number.
2. Your bank Name, Account number, Swift code(if any), Address, telephone and fax number all for your bank.

For your further verification and confirmation here is the contact of the bank.

ANONYMOUS BANK CI(ECOBANK)
Contact person: Benson Wilson(Remittance Manager)
Tel: +22507948813.

waiting to hear from you,

Yours, AHMED

Sucker Born Every Minute

Thu, 23 Mar 2006 17:23:56 GMT

----- Original Message ----

From: chris@theeclipse.org
To: ahmed dikko <ahmeddikko55@yahoo.com>; ahmeddikko204@yahoo.fr
Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2006 11:20:52 AM
Subject: Re: Help Me Out Please

DIV {margin:0px;}

Dearest Ahmed,

I'm saddened to hear about your father. He was such a good man and a great asset to your country.

This surely must be a trying time for you. I hope you don't think poorly on me from my excitment upon reading about your proposal.

I am most disheartened to hear that Gbago is still in power! Damn him and his rebel alliance. I remember with displeasure when he and the other Sith Lords held their vote of no confidence, allowing the Trade Alliance to try to seize the power in the council? I was hoping that Ndege O'Chello would rise back up, by that damn Mellencamp controversy kept cropping back up.

You have peaked my interest, dear friend. What is it that you need from me?

With warmest regards,

Chris

----- Original Message ----
From: ahmed dikko <ahmeddikko55@yahoo.com>
To: chris@theeclipse.org
Sent: Thursday, March 23, 2006 10:39:11 AM
Subject: Help Me Out Please

Help Me Out Please

Abidjan Cote d' Ivoire

West Africa.

For logistic reason contact me on my privat e.mail:(ahmeddikko204@yahoo.fr ) Attention: Respectful Greetings and How are you today Iam AHMED DIKKO.

I would like you to permit me to apply through this medium for your co-operation and to secure an opportunity to invest and do joint relationship and business with you in your country.
I have a substantial capital I honourably Inherited from my late father late Chief DIKKO who was minister of Interior and deal in Cocao and coffee platation and share from family Gold, diamond Minining site.The Epmigo rebels killed Him recently in political crisis in our country that have resulted to war since this past two years.

I intend to invest this fund in profitable areas in your country into a very lucratives business venture of which you are to advise and execute the said venture over there for the mutual benefits of both of us .

Most especially is for you to help me come over to your base if possible for You be able co-operate with me to become my business partner in your country and create ideas on how money will be invested, properly managed and the type of investment after the money is transferred to your custody with your assistance. I inherited this sum from my late father whom the
rebels killed because he was not supporting their selfish intrest to topple the president Gbagbo the
present president. Meanwhile, on indication of your willingness to handle this transaction sincerely by protecting my
Interests and upon your acceptance of this proposal. I would furnish you with the full detailed information, procedure, amount involve is below and we shall mutually agree on your percentage interest or share holding for helping me to secure the release of the deposit and investing the fund into a lucratives profitable venture in your care.It is The sum of Six Million Five Hundred Thousand $6.500.000USD I shall be glad to reserve this respect and opportunity for you, if you so desire, but do urge you to give the matter your immediate attention it deserves.I want you to be rest assured that everything is in order and legitimate it was due to the political crisis in our country that have resulted to war which cause everybody to find a way to get out of the country, that make's me to use this medium to request for your assistance hoping that you will not let me down.
This fund is legitimately acquired by my late father from sales of cocoa and coffee and diamond dealings. Looking forward to your prompt response on my privat e.mail:(ahmeddikko204@yahoo.fr)

Faithfully

AHMED DIKKO.

Somebody Told Me That You Had a Boyfriend That Looked Like a Girlfriend That I had In February of Last Year

Wed, 25 Jan 2006 16:20:38 GMT

One thing that is worse than going to work is going to work slightly hung-over. The six pack of Shiner that I was going to drink on Sunday (but didn't) were calling out to me.

They've been hanging out too long with those homos Ben & Jerry too long and have learned their little tricks.

Bastards.

As promised yesterday, here's the last of the faux news articles.

Volume 7 Issue 1

News so amazing, it can't be real!

Top Story for 01/27/2006

Student Protests School's Decision to Expel

BOSTON -- Until last night, Harvard freshman Ted Logan was on his road of dreams; dreams of following in his father's footsteps. Those dreams were shattered yesterday when the University Advisory Committee voted unanimously to expel him from Harvard.

"As a result of a unanimous vote by the twelve members of the Advisory Committe, Ted Logan is expelled from Harvard effective immediately. This was a difficult decision to make, especially hard considering who is father is, however we feel that it is in the best interest of both the University and it's students, that Ted Logan transfer to a university more suitable to his potential," said University spokesperson, Dr. B. Robert Eastman. He added, "Unfortunately, I don't believe that Mr. Logan has what it takes to succeed at Harvard, let alone the intellectual capacity and dedication required to become a Doctor of medicine. I'm sure his family is as disappointed as we are"

Yesterday's hastily scheduled meeting of the Advisory Committee came at the request of Dr. Phil McKracken, Professor of Microbiology. "I just couldn't take it anymore," stated Dr. McKracken. "I've been at my wit's end about his (Logan's) constant interruptions during my lectures. I advised him time after time that it wasn't fair to me or his fellow classmates, but his behavior never changed. Every-single-day he has disrupted the class with his obscene comments and juvenile snickering. I warned him several times that if his behavior didn't change, that I would be forced to report him to the Dean"

Scanning Electron Micrograph of Flea

Mr. Logan conceded that he did engage in some behavior that "might be slightly offensive" to "overly sensitive" members of his class. "Look, I totally understand where Dr. M is coming from, but he needs to see things from my side. I mean, we're looking a wicked looking things everyday and I can't help it if some of them crack me up."

"Last week, we were looking at pictures of these fleas from Dr. M's lab and they were so freaky looking. It was like they were little aliens. So I said, you know like I was the flea and all, 'Dude, I am a freaky alien from a Pussy-faced planet far away. Help me! Help me!'. It was so funny. I couldn't stop laughing. I know that it was a little non-PC, but I think everyone appreciates a good joke every now and then."

"He is such a clueless, perverted pig!" said Jessica Long. "He's a misogynistic creepo. He comes to class every day with these vulgar shirts that say things like "Save the Whales, Harpoon a Fat Chick", or "Mustache Rides 5 Cents". God, doesn't he know that it's the 21st Century now? When he's not making gross comments or snickering like he's Beavis, he just sits there and like, stares at all the girls. I've seen him put his jacket over his lap and rub himself when he thought no one was looking."

"My jokes aren't for everyone," said Ted, "but I know that most of the chicks in my class dig them. I see them checking me out from time to time; they can't help themselves. They all want to ride on Ted's Litte Train of Love..."

Scanning Electron Micrograph of Malassezia lipophilis

The catalyst for yesterday's emergency meeting of the Advisory Committee, according to Dr. McKracken, were statements "beyond the bounds of social acceptance" that "(he) couldn't in good conscience repeat". Mr. Logan says, "Dude, how could I not say what I said. I'm mean-shit, you'd have to be a blind Polack to not see that the picture looked like a giant cock. Being expelled for being funny is totally, totally bogus. Shit, look how funny that Robin Williams guy is. He was a good doctor with all those sleeping retards. Dr. M thinks that that chick didn't like what I said she should do with it, but no way, man. I've said it before and I'll say it again-all the ho's love Big Ted

Harvard President, Reginald Logan, did not return repeated requests for a statement

Old School News

Tue, 24 Jan 2006 17:30:11 GMT

Here's something that I wrote for my old website. I wrote it sometime in 2002 (just based on the copyright date). I've got another one I'll post tomorrow that I think is pretty funny. I apologize in advance for the quirky formatting...the old site used CSS to pad the borders of the tables I used in the news article and I don't feel like wasting time trying to replicate it manually here.

Volume 7 Issue 1

News so amazing, it can't be real!

Top Story for 1/24/06

Hussein Collapses at Weekend Retreat

MEHOCKININMIBRED, IRAQ -- Iraqi dictator, Saddam Hussein, has been hospitalized after he mysteriously collapsed at his weekend retreat in Mehockininmibred, a small village along the tranquil shores of Lake Razzaza. The 65 year old leader of Iraq is said to be in stable, but serious condition.

Iraqi Troops Delivering Protective Heat Shield

"Our most illustrious leader is perfectly fine," says Dr.Apu Nahasapeemapetilon, head of the prestigous Iraqi Institute of Medicine. "President Hussein, long may his camels travel, suffered a mild heatstroke. We believe that his condition was caused by the evil forces of the United States--may mightly Allah kill them where they stand, but I digress."

"We believe that the American pigs targeted our powerful leader with an intense beam of focused sunlight from a space-based satellite. The brave and mighty soldiers of the Iraqi army are now in the process of delivering a heat shield to place over the Great One's roof".

Portrait of Hussein completed minutes before his collapse

General Keane, commander of the Middle Eastern theater of operations calls Dr. Nahasapeemapetilon's theories "as useless as camel piss in the summer". "Mr. Hussein will make any claim so that his people won't know the real cause of his illness," General Keane says. "Saddam Hussein is a weak man. His heart is so deteriorated that he can't even order one of his men to kill someone without needing to take a nap afterwards."

"We had a Predator drone directly over his compound during the time of his collapse. Mr. Hussein was running around his tomato garden with an orange wedge in his mouth, chasing his grandkids around the rows of plants. The next minute he was on his back, huffing away like a winded left tackle," says Colonel Carl Mustard, Gen. Keane's chief of staff.

As Mr. Hussein recupurates from his collapse, his commanders are quietly building up troops at the Kuwaiti border, in anticipation of an attack from US ground forces stationed there. "We will repel those dirty American dogs and keep our borders free!" shouts Commander Khan, leader of the elite Iraqi "Angel" battalion.

Iraq's crack "Angels" team readies for combat

"They will grovel at the feet of Allah when we are through with them." Shouts of agreement echo down the long lines of "Angel" troops, their hands thrusting up in a sign of solidarity. "All of you who are independent, throw you hand's up in the air! To all of you making money, throw you hand's into the air! Ah, excellent...you know I depend on me!", Commander Khan says, exciting his blood-thirsty troops.

When asked whether or not his troops were concerned about build up of Iraqi forces along the Kuwaiti border, Colonel Mustard's initial response was indeciperhable due to his laughter. "Oh, Jesus. That's pretty funny. Seriously...we're not one bit concerned about is 'highly trained and highly motiviated crack commandos'. Oh man, I almost got that out without laughing again."

Ghosts of New Year's Past

Fri, 30 Dec 2005 18:07:02 GMT

I still have no clue what I'm doing tomorrow night. I know that my in-laws are going to watch the kids; I know that Laurie's sister is going to hang with us; I know that I'm probably going to drink a lot. That's about it so far. The ironic (and very, very sad) thing about it is, even if I do NOTHING else other than get shitfaced at my house and play Jenga or Trivial Pursuit, my night will still be much more exciting and eventful than it has been over the past several years.

Most years, we go to my in-law's house, the kids play games, I drink a couple of beers, eat some snacks, watch Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve (hint to Mr. Methuselah Clark--if you have to say it's "rockin", it probably isn't), and doze in a half-buzzed stupor until midnight, when we wake the kids up for the countdown, then go home, I beg for sex, get turned down, masturbate in the shower, and then fall asleep with salty tears drying on my cheeks.

I vow that this year will be different...(I'm going to stroke the goat BEFORE the festivities begin!)

Here are a few of the highlights from some of my New Year's Eve pasts:

1988 (age 14): The New Year's after my mom split, my dad went to a party and I was left at home to watch my sister. My friend, James, came over and we got drunk on Peppermint Schnapps and watched Headbanger's Ball. This was the first night I heard of Guns & Roses, when "Welcome to the Jungle" was one of the new videos they played. jigajigajigajigadooww, indeed, Mr. Rose.

1988 (age 14): The following day, James and I rode our bikes to his brother's girlfriend's house. We smoked Cheech-like amounts of weed on the ride over. When we first got there, this hot chick answered the door wearing tight red jeans and a David Bowie concert tee. I immediately fell in lust with her, but figured James would end up getting her (the girls loved James--he looked like Rob Lowe when Rob Lowe was young). I also knew I had no shot, because I was still in a "fat" mode in my head, even though over the summer I had grew several inches in height (up to about 5'11" at that time) and was weighing in at an eye pleasing 175 lbs since I was skateboarding pretty much 12 hours a day the preceding summer and working out 3-4 hours a day after school on the wrestling team. BUT, luck was with Chris that night and James had his sights on another cutie and after drinking several large screwdrivers to get up my courage, I ended up making out with the girl in the David Bowie shirt for many hours that night. That was the my first "real" kiss. That was also the first night I felt a chick up. That was also the first night I let my fingers do the walking (if you know what I mean and I'm sure you do, you fucking pervo). It would have been the night I first got laid, but I was too dumb (and dumbfounded by my luck) to press forward. If I would have known it was going to be another four years before I fully sealed the deal, I would have had no problem having sex on the floor of that bedroom, even without a blanket to cover my bare ass. In the morning, I spent my first hung over hour kicking myself for being such a pussy and then drinking a quart of screwdrivers and sleeping until noon.

1990 (age 16): I went over to my brother and his girlfriend's apartment (she's now his wife). Alice (now my sister-in-law) has a sister that I went to school with. Her name was Heather, but everyone called her "Header" for reasons that should be pretty obvious. Heather and one of her friends were also over and we did a lot of drinking. A little after midnight, Heather, her friend, and I stumbled our way outside and ended up in the apartment of the downstairs neighbors. They were these two frickin' creepy guys that were in their 40's (I think). They had all this sci-fi stuff (Star Trek toys, posters, etc), but the creepy stuff were these fake alien heads and Bigfoot heads that were made out of animal parts. It was serial killer material if I ever saw it.

We went back upstairs and I started making out with Heather. When I put my hand up her skirt, she told me "I took my panties off in the bathroom". Cha-ching! My plans for finally getting some booty were squashed when Alice and Steve came back into the living room ten minutes later fighting. My night ended with me puking in what I thought was the sink. In the morning, I spent my first hungover hour cleaning puke out of the dishwasher. Damn deceptive appliances.

1991 (age 17): Back to Steve and Alice's house (who are now man and wife). Lots and lots of beer, courtesy of the ever popular Coors Party Ball and lots of daiquiri's from the ubiquitous daiquiri stands in northern Louisiana. Now understand this, Louisiana daiquiris are not normal...they are mostly made from high octane liquor like Everclear. They will literally melt the cup it's in if not consumed in a timely manner.

We capped off the night by sitting in my brother's garage, shooting fireworks out of PVC pipes at people in the street (a roman candle in a pipe is like a rocket launcher...it is awesome). The trick is to hold the bottom of the pipe with a towel to prevent burning yourself. After two hours of drinking, the trick is make sure that the towel doesn't burst into flames. Unfortunately, I was not successful. In the morning, I spent my first hung over hour cleaning puke off of the lawn and the birdbath.

1994 (age 20): Check out my audio post from a couple of weeks ago for the full details, but basically I got drunk, broke into a cop's house, and fell asleep in his bed. In the morning, I spent my first hung over hour trying to understand why my dad was laughing so much.

1995 (age 21): Laurie and I went to my friend, Davey's house to watch the one of the first Ultimate Fighting Championship fights on PPV. I drank a fifth of Crown Royal out of a Big Gulp cup. Laurie and I went back to my house and lit off fireworks in the backyard. One of them exploded in my hand, turning it a nice shade of white. While banging like bunnies later that night, she hit her mouth and her lip became swollen (yeah, booooooy...that's how I roll, beeyotch).

When she went home the next afternoon, her grandmother asked her if I had got drunk and hit her. She had to come up with some really lame excuse to try to explain it...I don't think her traditional, Catholic grandmother would want to hear "Chris was fucking me so hard that I hit my face on the wooden frame of his bed." In the morning, I spent my first hung over hour cooking eggs and sausage for Laurie.

1996: (age 22) It's all downhill from here...married people don't have fun.

What are your plans this New Year's Eve?

I Pity the Fool That Don't Listen to the Stars

Tue, 13 Dec 2005 23:09:06 GMT

Back when I had a much cooler website, I had a script that would allow you to get your horoscope from Mr. T.

Basically, you would select your "sign" and a CGI script would pull out a random horoscope that I, uh I mean Mr. T!, had written.

It was pretty stupid, but amused the hell out of me.

I was digging through some old files and ran across the source file for the random horoscopes.

I put them together for your...listen to the T, or you'll be sorry suckas...

Aries (Ram): March 21–April 19

I see pain, lots of pain ahead for you, sucka. Avoid high places and keep your jibba-jabba to yourself and you may just make it to the 20th anniversary of the A-Team.

Taurus (Bull): April 20–May 20

You got friends in high places that you can use to your advantage today. When your boss goes to lunch, open the back door so Face can sneak in.

Gemini (Twins): May 21–June 20

That damn Murdoch keeps on with his jibba jabba. Shut up, fool, can't you see I'm trying to read the stars? Avoid shellfish today.

Cancer (Crab): June 21–July 22

When I was a boy, my no good daddy left my Mama with 12 kids to raise on only $87 a week. When I found him fifteen years later, he looked happy--until I hurt him. Don't make me hurt you too. Today's a good day to send money to charity.

Leo (Lion): July 23–Aug. 22

That Eddie Murphy is a damned liar. I would never clench up my ass cheeks and rip a dick off. That sucka be asking for pain, lots of pain. Someone close to you is lying, catch them soon or you will be a fool too. Green is your lucky color today.

Virgo (Virgin): Aug. 23–Sept. 22

I remember this one time when I was eating supper with Hannibal-no, not that crazy, white-boy eating cannibal- Colonel Hannibal you fool. I ate a fortune cooking and it said "You are what you eat.", and I say the same thing to you, sucka. You are what you eat, so you must be eating sissy.

Libra (Scales): Sept. 23–Oct. 22

Steer clear of Chinatown today. Those damn crazy triads are acting up again and we gonna bust some heads to make sure they don't burn down Mr. Lee's laundry again.

Scorpio (Scorpion): Oct. 23–Nov. 21

Today, I see that someone is going to spread rumors about you. You ever hear the one about Mr. Stallone? People are saying that he likes to lay down under a glass table and have a girl dookie on the table so he can watch. What kinda crazy fool makes up stories about nice men like Mr. Stallone? Keep your mouth shut today, if you know what's good for you.

Sagittarius (Archer): Nov. 22–Dec. 21

I remember this one time back in the 'Nam. That crazy fool Murdoch was flying us in to a hot LZ. He was shouting at the top of his lungs "Kill all the gooks! Kill all the gooks!" while I blasted those little suckas from above with my 30 caliber. When we landed, it was like God had painted the LZ with buckets of red paint. I see the same thing for you today, except you won't be killing gooks or flying in a hot LZ.

Capricorn (Goat): Dec. 22–Jan. 19

Shut up, Murdoch! That crazy whiteboy keeps talking about trashbags. What's that fool want with trashbags? I see plastic bags and lime in your future.

Aquarius (Water Bearer): Jan. 20–Feb. 18

These crazy fools keep drugging me and putting me on planes and I wake up disoriented and in a new city. For some reason, everytime I wake up, I feel all greasy around my backside. Why's Face smiling so much? Damn fool. I see you taking a long trip soon.

Pisces (Fish): Feb. 19–March 20

I once asked Hannibal, "If we're some of the most wanted criminals in America, why don't we just move to Canada or Mexico to avoid the Army?" Hannibal told me, "Shut your pie-hole, Sergeant!" Take my advice, fool, don't ask any dumb questions today or you'll be sorry.

Haunted

Thu, 18 Aug 2005 17:59:09 GMT

Right now, I’m reading Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk. As I wrote last month, I’m a pretty useless source for critical analysis of anything because I’m easily pleased and easily distracted, but this book is so fucking brilliant that I had to write about it.

The summary from the jacket sets up the premise and format of the book pretty concisely. It’s a selection of short stories (ala The Canterbury Tales) told by members of a group of people and is a satire of society’s fascination with reality based entertainment. That’s a top-level, onion skin summary of the book. But, start peeling back the layers and there’s a deep complexity that could be overlooked if you take it too seriously.

The book is twenty-three short stories as told by a group brought together by an advertisement for a three month writer’s retreat, where they could leave the world behind and do nothing but work on their craft. Instead of the nice, rustic cabins they’re expecting, they get an old, deserted theater (as in drama, not movie) and are locked in by the (seemingly) ancient Mr. Whittier, their host (Smiles, everyone). Mr. Whittier explains that they can’t get out for three months and when he is kind enough to die shortly thereafter, they have no way of knowing where he hid the key to the locks. As the story progresses, we find they have no desire to get out either.

Each story is preceded by a poem that foreshadows some aspect of the story that follows. The poetry (for the most part) is mediocre, but still a thousand times better than any of the “slam” shit that you may experience at your local coffeehouse.

The interwoven story of their existence in the theater is this phenomenally over the top satire of the fucked up things people will do to get their fifteen minutes of fame. Everyone is focused on the same thing: how to be the most marketable lead character for the movie that is CERTAIN to be written about their horrible experience.

They poke holes in all of the food bags to make them rot, they break the furnace, they mutilate the washing machines, they stuff anything and everything they can (including a cat) into the toilets to foul the plumbing, they systematically remove all of the light bulbs from most of the fixtures and destroy them in the basement (while crafting their stories about how all of this was done by the evil Mr. Whittier to torture them).

Their efforts to get help consist pretty much of slapping the brick walls and softly whispering for help. They invent these fantastic rape stories, remove their fingernails with knives, chop off fingers and toes, and skip happily down the path of cannibalism when they mistakenly harvest meat from a chick they think is dead, but who is just sleeping deeply.

The stories they tell (which are based on their lives) are even more twisted than the life they’re living in the theater. From the kid who’s quest for self-satisfaction lead him to getting his intestines sucked out by the pool pump; to the woman who became a deadly assassin with skills she learned from her reflexology schoolmate; to the serial killer chef that blackmails a knife company into giving him money so that in the event he is caught, he would say he used a competing brand of knives to work his murderous magic; to the woman who thought that making amateur porn with her husband would leads to wealth and fame, only to find out it lead to super puffy lips and a missing husband; to a group of feminists who think a new member of their group HAS to be a transsexual because she is too perfect to be real and end up abusing her and raping her to prove their point; these stories are a brutal satire of modern society.

The book is amazingly disturbing, painfully funny, shockingly vulgar and depraved, and utterly, un-fucking-deniably, brilliant. You MUST go get it today.

Enchiladas

Thu, 28 Jul 2005 15:26:49 GMT

I guess this week sucked for weight loss. I posted the smallest loss yet (1lb). Hmm, I wondering if I’m starting to plateau? I guess I’ll find out when I weigh in next week.

I must have been tired last night, because I fell asleep before 11 (which almost never happens), while trying to watch Good Eats. I slept like a rock and didn’t wake up until the alarm went off this morning at 6:10 (and again at 6:20, 6:30, and 6:40—thank you “snooze” inventor!).

My enchiladas are awesome. I didn’t realize how hot the jalapeños were, so I didn’t leave out the seeds, so as a result they are super hot (but I like them). They are relatively healthy (compared to regular enchiladas), but you can only eat two of them if you want to keep things in moderation. Based on my calculations, they are 6 points for two (about 300 calories and about 6 or 8 grams of fat—I don’t have my calculations in front of me, so I’m having to recall what it was from memory). If you want to try them yourselves, here’s the recipe:

The Official Eclipse Enchiladas

12 Corn Tortillas
2 Cups Shredded 2% Low Fat Cheddar Cheese

1 Medium Red Onion (diced)
2 Large Jalapeño Peppers (seeded if you’re a pussy, leave ‘em in if you’re not)

1 Large Green Bell Pepper (seeded and finely chopped)
1 Large bag of fresh spinach (12oz)

2 Medium Portabella Mushroom Caps

1 Cup Cilantro (finely chopped)

2 10oz cans Red Enchilada Sauce (Old El Paso is the best)

1 Tbsp Ground Cumin

2 Tbsp Ground Chili Powder

Kosher Salt (to taste)

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees

Place your jalapeño peppers on two stainless steel skewers and roast them over an open flame until they are decently charred. I have a gas stove, so this is easy for me. If you don’t have a gas stove, you can be white trash and do it with a candle or a lighter. After sufficient charrage has occurred, set them aside to cool and then slice and dice them until finely diced.

If you bought your spinach pre-washed in the bag, in some cases you can just toss the whole unopened bag in the microwave for 3-4 minutes to cook. If the bag tells you not to cook them this way (fucking cowards), heat a large skillet on high and toss in the spinach, letting it wilt for a few minutes. Your large pile of spinach should now be a small handful of wilted, pathetic looking leaves. Set this pile to the side to cool. Once cooled, squeeze them like you wish you could squeeze the neck of your spouse, until all of the life (sorry, WATER) has been drained from the useless shell of matter and then attack it with a large butcher knife, chopping and hacking it until small pieces.

If you’re a true gourmand, you’ll know that you are supposed to just brush away any dirt from the mushroom to clean it. If you’re a true gourmand, you never, EVER wash a mushroom. If you’re a true gourmand, you probably have parasites chewing their way through your bloated, stinking colon! I wash mushrooms…I don’t care if it adds water to them. They grow them in dirt and bat shit. I don’t think you can just brush shit off of food. Anywho; clean your mushrooms however you want (you dirty, filthy Frenchman), and then chop them finely.

Now that everything is chopped, heat a large skillet on high and drop in a tablespoon of olive oil, just enough to coat the bottom of the pan. Sauté the onions, bell pepper, and mushrooms. The mushrooms will start pumping out liquid like ***simile deleted due to grossness of comparison between food and anything porn related***, so cook this mix until all of the liquid is gone. Toss this into a large mixing bowl.

Into the mass of mushroom magnificence, add the cilantro, jalapeños, the cumin (hehehe, cumin), chili powder, and salt. Take a taste. You like it, don’t you? I knew you would, you dirty whore. Pour in about 2/3rds of a can of the enchilada sauce, a cup of the cheese, and stir well. It looks horrible, but don’t worry. Some of the best things in life are ugly, at least that’s what my mom used to tell me. Set this mixture aside for the moment.

Take a large skillet over high heat and add about an inch of olive oil. Let it get good and hot by lovingly stroking the long, rigid handle of the pan. Whisper to it, caress it, love it. Once the oil is hot, fry the tortillas one at a time. Leave ‘em in the oil for about 7 seconds per side. Set them aside on a few paper towels to soak up an excess oil. Think of the paper towels like giant strydex pads. You would, wouldn’t you—sick fuck. Repeat for the remaining eleven tortillas.

Now you’re ready to rock. Fill your tortilla with a heaping spoonful of the filling and roll it tight. Having flashbacks to rolling big, fat blunts yet? Arrange in a large casserole dish. Repeat eleven times and hope that you estimated the filling amount right; otherwise you’ll be shot in the head and let me be honest; no one wants an enchilada filled with your aerosolized brain matter

Pour the remaining enchilada sauce over the enchiladas, and top with the remaining cheese.

Bake in the over for about 15-20 minutes. Or you can forget all about them like I did and keep them in for 30 minutes. Whatever works for you.

I’ll make one recommendation: enchiladas always taste better the day after they are made. Make this ahead of time and reheat in the oven (or microwave if you are lazy) when you want to eat.

"Oh, Angry God of Rain, please forgive me!"

Tue, 12 Jul 2005 17:25:22 GMT

I walk into the bathroom at work to take care of business. When you’re a guy, throughout the day your penis gets bored and likes to go through various stages of inflation, just to keep things interesting. So, I pull my buddy out and he’s at about a half-chub, I take aim and proceed to “make water” as the old folks back home in Louisiana like to say.

Well, apparently my half inflated friend is a little more inflated around the ol’ urethra than he should be, because instead of a steady stream of urine soundly splashing the back of porcelain in the urinal, I get “thumb on a water hose” spray of pee that only half makes it to the appropriate destination.

I quickly move my left leg back out of the way to try to keep my shoes dry and hit a wet patch on floor. Wet tile not being conducive to good traction, I start a terrifyingly quick journey to the floor. In the split second of the fall, I imagine myself being found unconscious under the urinal, dick in my hand, covered in my own piss.

The scare must have sped up my reflexes, because I caught myself on the wall next to the urinal, taking quick action with my right had to stop the sprinkler action.

Amazingly enough, not a drop hit my shoes or pants (thank god), but I did have the unpleasant task of wiping up the floor before heading back to my desk. The only positive is that it was my own mess that I was cleaning. The only thing worse than wiping up your piss is wiping up someone else's. (reminds me of the following joke: "What's worse than a cold seat in a public restroom? Answer: A warm one."