Baby Massage

I saw an advertisement that said that licensed massage therapists will, for $60 an hour, massage your baby. Now, I can understand this if your infant is a professional athlete (or even a high-level amateur). But it's also useful just to relieve the stresses associated with their difficult lifestyle of taking naps and sucking on breasts all day. It is not easy. That's why they cry all the time, and why they find it so hard to control their bowels. It's all the pressure. I feel really bad for them.

I just hope that they can make it through to all the bills, jobs, and responsibilities of adulthood, so they can finally relax. Haven't they earned it, America*?


*also Australia and/or the UK**
**That's the United Kingdom and/or the University of Kentucky.

Netratings.com?

As some of you may know I am obsessed with looking at my web stats to see if I can figure out who is looking at this site. One of the IP addresses is from something called "netratings.com" which is like the Nielsens but for the internet.

Do I have a Nielsen family looking at MY website?? Oh, that would be SO COOL. Of course, I'll have to make some changes around here if that's the case. No, no, nothing major. I don't want to completely throw away what got me to this exalted stage. Just some sprucing up.

While writing entries, I will wear a monacle, bowtie and tophat. So no changes there. But from now on, I will wear nothing else. I think that will give this site the kick in the pants it's been missing. After all, of all the comments I get, the most frequent is, "More kicks in pants!" My apartment often has protesters surrounding it, chanting that very slogan. Or sometimes it's:

Leader: What do we want?
Crowd: Kicks in Pants!!!
Leader: How often do we want it?
Crowd: More!!!!!

Happens all the time. All. The. Time.

Size Matters.

I saw the apartment that I posted about yesterday. Yeah. Yeah that's pretty small. Ain't no WAY that's 300 square feet. Maybe they meant cubic feet. It is slightly larger than the human skull.

Some features:

• Loft area for a bed. Could have been great. However, there is only room for a twin bed up there, and I just don't like the sexual pessimism in that. Sort of the opposite of the "If you build it, they will come" mentality.
• Lots of Storage Space: Again, in many apartments, this could be a real bonus. However, there are some things that I'm going to need to have un-stored out in the actual living space itself. Such as a bed. Or my legs and arms, say.
• Brand New Appliances: Always a treat, however the "kitchen" in which they have been wedged is dwarfed by each burner on the 4 burner stove. I was doing some quick math, and as near as I can tell the owner must have installed the stove and THEN built the apartment around it.
• Private Basement: More storage! Great if you own a lot of things that you don't ever touch, and NOTHING that you ever need to actually use. And if you sleep like a bat hanging from a pole.

I'm telling you, the price is so right and the block is so nice I'm still considering it. If only for the material.

I think this could be a great apartment if you were just starting out and you were celibate and by gosh you intended to stay that way. And if you were only a torso. Or just a head in a jar. Or a really independent toddler.

GOD I wish I was 20" tall. This place would be ideal. With the loft, it would feel like a duplex. Ah well. Back to craigslist.

How small is it?

Ok, so I'm looking at apartments this week. I am going to see a studio that is 250 to 300 square feet. Just to give you a point of reference, one of those litterboxes with the little roof on it is, I believe, 200 square feet.

For those of you using the metric system, that translates to something like 25 cubic hectares per liter*.

Ok, I have no idea how to convert a room that I'm standing in into square footage. Unless the room is one square foot in size, in which case I might be able to fit in there for a little while, but I would probably have to get there via a high school football player locker room hazing sort of deal. And I'm fine with that, as long as I don't have to pay a realtor's fee.

*That's in Kelvin, I believe.

My 5,000th Hit!!!

Hello, all.

Sometime last night, this blog got viewed for the 5,000th time.

I just wanted to write to say thanks for making my website the most viewed website I have. Of the nearly two websites that I run...ok, call it one...this is the most popular one. Of that one, I'm saying.

Now Molly Ringwald's website will want to date this website, and she won't even notice that John Cryer's website will want to date HER website. But it will all work out in the end, I'm sure.

These 5,000 hits can mean only one thing: Aside from the 4,000 times I've probably viewed it myself, you have all really been helping out with my web statistics/self-esteem. And that's what it's all about for me. It's not about the comedy. I'm all about racking up the points. And thanks to you, I totally have the high score on this website.

In the future, you can look forward to more nonsense. Lucky you. I plan to post some excerpts from my "attempting to kill that giant fly in my apartment, along with our bi-annual mouse" journal. and more. Oh, so much more. And less, if you think about it.

What comes next

Most religions like to tell you exactly what's going to happen after you die. Since nobody knows what really happens, and those people are just making it up anyway, I thought I'd take the liberty of doing the same. After all, I might be right. And if I am, how can I justify keeping the truth from you, the common bored person reading this in lieu of working?

Ok, here's what happens.

When we die, during the first 30-90 minutes directly following death, nothing major happens. It takes a little while for the paperwork to go through. At that point, we ride a magical squirrel on a HotWheels racetrack past every Baskin Robbins we ever went to!

And then, we are shown a short film of a czar battling with a tsar for the spelling rights. The camera work is terrible, but the story is remarkably engaging.

Then, we are given a Silkwood shower where all of our sins are loofah'ed away. This lasts anywhere from an hour to 2 weeks, depending upon how skanky or creepy you've been.

At that point, we are poked with a stick twice. No one knows why.

Finally, we are brought to a lovely studio apartment near the subway line of our choice, and given a very reasonable lease agreement.

Silly, right? Yeah, I guess the Bible makes WAY more sense than this.

If there are any questions regarding any aspect of the afterlife, I am more than happy to answer them.

How to become wealthy in 300 very difficult steps!

I was in the bookstore looking at the "so, you're completely broke" books, and I came across one called, "Start Late, Finish Rich." Sounded good so far. I've got half of that covered before even buying the thing. In fact, I'll start saving my money by not paying for that book! It really works!

On the back cover, it was saying that you might think that you are the only one who hasn't been planning for the future, but did you know that the person on your left probably has $8,000 in credit card debt, and the person on your right probably has less than $1,000 in their savings account??

It was at this point that I realized that this book might not be for me. I mean, when their negative examples of how bad it can get are essentially my financial heroes, maybe I start with smaller steps.

I think my first goal will be this: When I go to the ATM and it asks if I would like a receipt, I would like for my reaction to be something other than, "Jesus Christ, NO!" And then I'll go from there.

Dear couple from Minnesota whose stuff I just carried into your 4th floor walkup,

Hello? Remember me? I'm one of the 2 guys you hired to carry your stuff up to your lovely new apartment. You know, the one with the rent that is so cheap that, even though you were extraordinarily nice, very nice, maybe TOO nice, I sort of wished you were dead? Yeah! That's the one!

Couple of quick things.

First, and this is more of a question - What good is that dresser going to do you in your apartment that I might not do on the ground floor in the hallway, say?

Secondly, if and when you decide to move out, rather than move all that stuff again, just go ahead and burn that building down. I promise, it's not as hard as it looks. Trust me on this. You'll thank me later.

Actually, you were both lovely people. And your belongings, while heavy, were not insanely so. I'm just not wild about manual labor. I think it's because you have to do so much of it by hand.

Sincerely,

too tired to type my name, but not too tired to type this much longer phrase.

Charting my new singlehood...

Hello, gentle* readers. Well, it appears that I am a newly single person. My girlfriend and I are in the process of breaking up and I thought it would be valuable to keep you all posted on my progress through the 5 stages of grief as laid out by Elisabeth Kubler Ross:

• DENIAL - I don't think I'm going to have this one. Not at all. There is nothing that I'm denying. Everything is fine. I'm totally fine. Totally.
• BARGAINING - I'm pretty sure that I'm not going to have to deal with this one either. As long as I start flossing every day (and I mean EVERY day) and if I exercise regularly and eat more vegetables, I probably won't have to feel much of this at all. I just have to be really good. Really. I'll do anything, so it's fine.
• ANGER - This is not a problem for me, and if you think it is then feel free to go fuck yourself. I mean it. I am NOT experiencing anger, so just shut your stupid fucking mouth about it. No, I am NOT shouting.
• DEPRESSION - Well...I mean, what's the point in even going THROUGH this stage? It just seems like such a useless thing to do. I'm serious. I just can't imagine having the energy.
• ACCEPTANCE - Totally. I'm totally there. (see DENIAL.)

Well, that's taken care of. Whew! I guess it's on with the rest of my life. Huzzah!

*And rough, scratchy ones too, of course.

There's nothing funny happening today...

It's strange. I think it's probably related to science or religion. But there is just nothing funny happening today.

Wait. Hold on a second. I think...yes. Yes. There's something funny about a squirrel...today. See, that doesn't sound right. I don't think that...A squirrel that...walks? A squirrel that walks. That really doesn't seem that funny. I guess in comparison to other stuff, it might be hilarious. Maybe not.

I hope this passes soon. It's just terrible for business. The business of writing comedy on the internet for absolutely no money whatsoever. I'll keep you all posted.

The Museum of Glass!

They are running a commercial right now where they are showing the joy that you can bring to your family if you take them to a museum where they show you how glass is blown.

It actually has the balls to suggest that "sisters get along with brothers!" during the big show.

How much do you have to dislike your children to select this vacation? Children don't like museums anyway. And even if they did, very, very few people on the earth are mesmerized by the magic of how glass gets into that bottle-ey shape we've come to know and love.

Here are some slogans for this museum:

• For when you love your children, just not very much.
• Ever wonder how glass is made? Uh, no? Really? Huh. Well...want to see anyway?
• Did your car break down in town? Will it take a really long time to fix it? Come on by!
• Trying to work up the nerve to keep that suicide pact, but just aren't in the mood?
• Guaranteeing awkward silence on the ride home for 15 years running!
• Glass is boring - are you? Then be sure to stop by!

Greatest Cable Guide Listing Ever

Black Sunday R *** 1977
A terrorist lures a blimp pilot into a plot to spray the Superbowl with darts.

First of all, YES! Hurray! This is a fantastic idea. Not to actually DO, of course. That would really hurt. I'm saying that I can't believe there aren't more movies about darts! Or just featuring darts. Or more terrorists who use them. Ever been sprayed with darts? Me neither, but I bet it SUCKS. I'm serious.

Secondly, my favorite word in the description is "lures." I imagine the blimp pilot is maybe an orangutan, and the terrorist is waving a banana in front of the plot to spray the Superbowl with darts, making those clicking noises and going, "Come on! Here, boy! Come on. Come-on-you-know-you-want-a-banana."

There is no good word for that noise we make when we are luring dogs to stuff. Or blimp pilots into plots.

Also, orangutans maybe don't even like bananas. That's a cultural stereotype and I'm ashamed for having used it here. I'd like to think I'm above that sort of thing. Ok, make it a caesar salad. And instead of an orangutan, make it an ocelot. Or a lynx. I feel so much better.

Miscellaneous advice

1. If HBO comes to you and says, "Hey, we've got a documentary series and we'd like to film you doing what you do," here's how you should respond. One, politely refuse. Two, stop it. Whatever it is that HBO wants to film you doing, you've got to cut that shit out. It's not doing anybody any good.
2. If you're a stupid president, here's my advice. Ok. let me back up. I don't know for sure that he's stupid. He may be a genius with an image problem. Sure he might. But if you are the allegedly demi-retarded guy who said you would "bring dignity back to the oval office," I think it would be a good idea to stop BY the oval office once in awhile. The sticks in your backyard will keep, I promise.
3. Don't go onstage and attempt to do comedy that you haven't written yet. (That one's for me.)
4. Don't try to make me like anchovies. I promise, it's not because I haven't tried them with an open mind. I really tried. They just blow.
5. If you're seriously overweight and think that doughnuts are perfectly reasonable food, don't become my college nutrition teacher. It's just not your bag.

The Army's new spy drone

Following the amazing success of the unmanned Predator, they are building another way to kill people without having to go near them. This next one can not only fly off to distant locales and blow them up, but it can actually take off and land automatically. Several points:

1. Given that this already exists in the movie Stealth, can't we just force our enemies to watch that? I promise they will feel very punished.

2. I think this sends the wrong message to the terrorists. I mean, if we don't care enough to blow the shit out of them in person, how can we expect them to understand that we're serious about the whole "please stop attacking us" thing?

3. Since I'm paying for it anyway, I would like them to develop a drone that will renew my drivers licence. Or pay my bills with money that it earns at a job that it automatically goes out and finds. Why don't dronesmiths ever consider MY needs?

Excuses for my recent lack of blogularity...

Hello, you. I just wanted to explain my recent dearth of blog postings. Yeah, dearth. There was one. A dearth, I'm saying. There was a real dearth in there somewhere as far as I'm concerned. I don't usually like to have dearths* if I can avoid them.

Here are just some of the many, many reasons why I have not blogged in a few days:

• Sun was in my eyes.
• I thought I heard someone else say, "I got it" and my old sunday school volleyball instincts kicked in. It was probably a flashback. Volleyball is a lot like Vietnam, if only for that first letter. Seriously, think about it. Creepy. God damn it, Johnny, don't you die on meeeee!!!!!!
• Iditarod practice ran late. Don't worry, none of the huskies or malamutes** were overworked.
• Waiting by the phone in case someone called to tell me that I was rich. Oddly, nothing yet. Hm. I checked the phone, too. It seems to be working fine.
• I was planning my own funeral and as the temperature in my apartment reached "furnace" levels, I began to actually look forward to it.
• I forgot there was an internet.
• I think the main button on my mouse**** was malfunctioning.

In the future, I will do my best to avoid such interruptions in service. Sadly, my best is something less than impressive.

Sincerely*****,

-the management

* You never hear the plural form "dearths" and I mean to remedy that.
** I don't know if there's a difference between the two, and whenever I would ask them they would either stare or just pee on me to mark me as their property***.
*** Not nearly as upsetting as you might think. In fact, it was rather charming.
**** Computer mouse, of course. My actual mouse is functioning perfectly well. And yes, I checked all of her buttons. She's fine. Just let it go, can't you?
***** This word is not meant to be taken literally. I am being as sincere as my Connecticut upbringing will allow.

Desperate Measures

Because of the current geopolitical climate, we are not as safe as we once were. I am therefore suggesting this feeble premise...ah...I mean, this innovative idea for improving law enforcement. Here are just some of the enhancements that I am proposing:

• Each New York City police officer will be armed with his standard issue sidearm, mace, the beat-you-over-the-head baton, a flaming baton for impromptu halftime shows, 3 novelty shop grenades because they look cool, and a 50 megaton suitcase nuke to be detonated at the first sign of trouble. This way, the terrorists know we're serious.
• The president will wear one of those belts where the buckle is a ninja star. This is not so much for his safety, but for the look of delight on his face when he unwraps it on Christmas morning. He's wanted one of these for so long. And he hasn't started a new war in a good couple of years. I think he's earned it.
• We will outlaw guns, but to ease the sadness at losing your firearms, we will give a bullwhip to anyone who wants one. I've got to think this will really spice up the news. We're all so numb to hearing about wild shootouts, but 50 man bullwhip fights are still fresh. I'm not sure how this makes us safer. I'll have to get back to you.

These are just a few of the many things I might waste time thinking of. I would really like to be invited to be a part of a national defense think tank. I think I might enjoy working in a tank.

The Glory Days

Pornographic magazines these days have such crass titles. No, don't argue with me. No, I'm serious. It's really true if you think about it. Just give my hypothesis a CHANCE before you dismiss it completely, won't you? Won't you, for at least ONE second, consider the POSSIBILITY that pornographic magazine titles are slightly uncouth? Thank you. Thank you for being reasonable. And for being flexible enough to accept a viewpoint other than your own. I hope you've learned something. I know that I have.

There was a time, people. Oh, there was a time. There sure was. I've forgotten what I was talking about, and am now just vamping. Oh right! Porno mag titles. There were plenty of times in history when the process of naming your pornography was a job filled with honor, truth, justice, and the American way. Sure there was.

Consider the Civil War era quarterly, "Brother Against Brother." Clever, classy, and reflective of the news of the day. Stonewall Jackson was known to pose twice a year for this publication. Can you imagine his rebuff to a similar request from "Semi-legal Hillside Hump"?

How about the one time prestige publishing of "The Boston Pee Party"? That one gave King George something to think about, I can assure you.

In exchange for food and shelter, Cristopher Columbus himself presented several important pieces of leatherbound erotica to the Native Americans, including most notably "The Ninnies, the Penie and the Pantsless Maria," which he was reported to have penned himself during the long months at sea. Some of the articles had to be explained to the chief, but after seeing the pictures he got the basic idea.

And other cheap wordplay as well!