idiotprufs

Illegal in 38 states–frowned upon in the rest.

Archive for the tag “comedy”

The Absolutely Indispensable Gift Guide–2016 Edition

bad gift

“You said you liked me au natural.”

All you want is to give the perfect gift for Christmas. The gift that will brighten a child’s face. The gift that shows thoughtfulness and caring. The type of gift that will result in moments to be cherished forever.

What a load of crap that is!

You are an insensitive oaf, but social convention dictates you must give gifts at Christmastime. What you really want, is to give gifts that won’t result in icy glares from your significant other, and more crucially, gifts that won’t result in a face-stabbing.

Granted, most of your big family get-togethers result in a face-stabbing, but there is no need to exacerbate an already tense atmosphere.

Note: that knife-wielding aunt of yours is stunningly spry for a lady with such chunky thighs.

Note to the note:  do not get that knife-wielding aunt of yours with the chunky thighs, a Thighmaster for Christmas–it will not be taken in the spirit with which it is intended.

Since I’m practically an expert at screwing things up badly (I mean, I am shockingly good at it) I am going to aid you in what gifts not to give.

Don’t give your goth cousin a bottle of skin bronzer. Her pale, nearly translucent skin, is her choice. It is not a result of her inability to tan naturally. Her flesh will not burst into flames if it’s exposed to real sunlight. It’s Holy water that makes her flesh burst into flames.

Don’t give your still single aunt a copy of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, because the only way she’ll find a man is if she constructs one herself. She will not find it as amusing as you do.

Don’t give your girlfriend, and I cannot stress this too strongly, a self-help book of any kind with the phrase “for dummies” in the title. Just don’t.

Don’t give the guy your cousin is dating this book, when what he really needs is a book about better decision making.

bitches

Don’t give your aunt a jar of anti-wrinkle cream and bottle of wart remover. She will not appreciate them…regardless of how desperately they’re needed.

Don’t give your uncle, who likes to hunt, that bottle of scent-masking spray he’s been asking for. The first thing he’ll do is try it out, and nobody wants to sip eggnog while they sit next to someone who wreaks of deer urine.

Note: Sure, your uncle generally wreaks of urine, but he splashes on that deer stuff like it’s cologne.

Don’t give that same uncle a book of vegetarian recipes; he’s just going to use its pages to start the fire he’s going to use to roast the woodchuck he hit with his pickup truck on the way to the Christmas party.

Don’t get your vegan cousin that Chia Pet. It looks entirely too much like bean sprouts growing out of tofu, eventually, he’s going to try to eat it. He’ll be rushed to the hospital, and your entire family will blame you.

Don’t get your aunt and uncle that home drug testing kit. While it may be applicable, your cousin carries a blade, and she will cut you.

Don’t get your wife a rat trap.

Note: Not a joke. One year my uncle bought my aunt a rat trap for Christmas. True story.

Don’t give anybody anything that has Justin Bieber on it. Why: because it has Justin Bieber on it. Enough said.

Don’t give any of your aunts or uncles this book:

problem child

Don’t avoid this gift because you fear recrimination. Avoid this gift because it’s just too late.

Don’t get your boss this mug; he may not have a sense of humor about it.

boss coffee cup

“Why does everybody laugh at me when I drink coffee?”

And finally, don’t give your grandmother that DVD of Deliverance; home movies can be so tedious.

You are now prepared for gift giving this Christmas season.

Addendum

If John Wayne Bobbitt had listened to me when I told him kitchen knives were a terrible Christmas gift for his wife Lorena, perhaps their marriage wouldn’t have become so severed. (Ha! I used the word severed.)

knife

A set of kitchen knives from Bed Bath and Beyond. It was the beyond that got John Wayne Bobbitt in trouble…she cut his penis off.

 

Reefer Madness and a Bit of Math

pot shop

Albert Einstein almost never hung out here.

Dutch researchers have done it again.

From the people who have already given us windmills, Holstein cows, gouda cheese, Heineken, orange carrots (seriously, orange carrots-look it up), and crucially: the idea that my date will pay for her own meal, comes another breakthrough.

Dutch researchers have determined that students who were banned from smoking marijuana in Dutch coffee shops were found to be more likely to pass exams, specifically math based ones.

The effect is “five times larger” for courses requiring quantitative thinking and maths-based tasks, the researchers wrote. They then crossed out that figure and changed it to “four times larger” before crossing out that figure and changing it to “ten times larger.” They then admitted that they were quite confused and unsure of the figures–they had been smoking a lot of pot that day. They then put on some Steely Dan records and sent out for munchies.

Note: in an unrelated study, Dutch researchers have discovered that people who repeatedly whomp themselves in the face with a wooden shoe, are more likely to suffer from headaches than people who don’t. Additionally, people who drink a case of Heineken every day are even more likely to whomp themselves in the face with a wooden shoe, but less likely to feel the effects. The Dutch are freakin’ awesome.

The Dutch, known for their thoroughness and incredible dyke building skills, have compiled a list of activities hindered by the use of marijuana:

  • Basic math skills.
  • Advanced math skills.
  • Common core math (actually, heavy drug use helps with this).
  • Operating heavy machinery.
  • Operating heavy machinery while trying to remember the lyrics of your favorite Grateful Dead song.
  • Operating heavy machinery while remembering that your favorite Grateful Dead song has no lyrics; it’s just 25 minutes of twangy guitar music.
  • Taking deep breaths without hacking up a lung.
  • Finding Lake Titicaca on a map.
  • Saying the name Lake Titicaca without giggling uncontrollably.
  • Not giggling uncontrollably.
  • The ability to have a conversation with a person without referring to him as “man” repeatedly.
  • The ability to enter a grocery store without purchasing a case of Twinkies.

Additionally, the Dutch have discovered in manufacturing companies where marijuana use is prevalent among its workers, production levels have seen a substantial drop. However, this doesn’t apply to companies that produce tie-dye clothing; drug use in those companies seems to cause an explosion of production…at least until everyone forgets what they’re supposed to be doing and they wander off.

Note: it is a little known fact that tie-dye was invented in 1928, when after eating a tainted breakfast burrito, Walt Disney vomited on a co-workers shirt, and really liked the way it looked. He then drew something about a mouse on a steamboat. The Dutch don’t invent everything.

Meanwhile in North Korea:

Even More Taglines, Just to Piss You Off

drunken monkey

An avid reader of idiotrufs, and quite possibly the author.

Are you sick of taglines? Too bad.

Some more taglines for your consideration, amusement or scorn.

idiotprufs: the blog that’s had the hiccups since 1987.

idiotprufs: what happens when everything goes horribly wrong.

idiotprufs: the blog that taught Michael Jackson how to moonwalk, but had nothing to do with all that other weird stuff.

idiotprufs: the blog that was really freaked out by the flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz.

idiotprufs: whatever stupidity happens to tumble from my brain.

idiotprufs: illegal in 38 states–frowned upon in the rest.

idiotprufs: the blog that doesn’t check to see if the milk has gone bad before it chugs it straight from the container.

idiotprufs: the blog that vomits far more often than it ought to.

idiotprufs: the real reason the dodo bird is now extinct.

idiotprufs: the blog that would have been burned at the stake in the Middle Ages.

idiotprufs: the blog that is often referred to as the juggernaut of the blogging world by people who are prone to hyperbole, and frequently imaginary.

idiotprufs: the blog that lost its virginity, but then immediately found it again. (It was right where it had left it.)

idiotprufs: the blog that giggles uncontrollably every time it meets someone from Intercourse, Pennsylvania.

idiotprufs: where brain cells go to die.

idiotprufs: the blog that has unsettling fantasies about Wolf Blitzer dressed in nothing but bicycle shorts and a monocle.

idiotprufs: the blog that can’t find Ecuador on a map…of Ecuador.

idiotprufs: the blog that thinks North Iowa is a state.

idiotprufs: the blog that plans to name its firstborn after a Muppet.

gonzo muppet

Gonzo: the probable name of idiotprufs’ first born (boy or girl).

idiotprufs: the blog that can do anything it wants because no one is paying attention anyway.

idiotprufs: the blog that wore alligator skin boots to its job interview with Peta, and got thrown out of the building.

idiotprufs: the blog that has been accused of smashing its neighbors garden gnomes with a shovel.

idiotprufs: the blog that thinks its neighbor shouldn’t make accusations that he can’t prove.

idiotprufs: the blog that doesn’t wait 60 minutes after eating before it goes swimming.

idiotprufs: the blog that tore the labels off its mattress with an arrogant disregard for the law.

idiotprufs: the blog that once brazenly robbed a group of mimes at gunpoint, but got away with it because nobody talked.

idiotprufs: the blog that is way too proud of the previous mime joke.

idiotprufs: the blog that took two years of Spanish in high school, but still can only count to ten.

idiotprufs: a clear sign that the end is near.

idiotprufs: the blog that is used as currency in prison.

idiotprufs: the blog that was once rejected as a cast member of Big Brother, because it just wasn’t slutty enough.

tidiotprufs: the blog that is badgered nightly by Mickey Mantle’s ghost, spitting sunflower seeds on it.

idiotprufs: the blog that still can’t find Waldo, regardless of how persistently it tries.

idiotprufs: the blog that wept like a baby when it saw Brian’s Song.

idiotprufs: the blog that it’s creator refers to as “the babe magnet.”

idiotprufs: the blog that believes Bigfoot is real, but has serious doubts about Donald Trump’s hair.

idiotprufs: also predicted by the Mayans, but John Cusack has no plans to make a crappy movie about it.

idiotprufs: what Sir Isaac Newton was actually thinking about right before that apple fell on his head.

idiotprufs: the tenth level of Hell in Dante Alighieri’s Inferno before the editing.

idiotprufs: the only one of Aesop’s fables that didn’t have a moral.

idiotprufs: oh the humanity.

idiotprufs is stilled freaked out by flying monkeys.

idiotprufs is still freaked out by flying monkeys.

Taglines and More Taglines

taglines

Because they haunt your dreams.

“Striving every day to do the least idiotic thing possible, generally failing.”

The above statement had been the tagline of this blog since its inception–sadly, it’s also been the guiding principle of my life–but it felt as if it was time for a change. (For the tagline, my life’s an irreparable heap.)

So I decided to change it this:

Read by four out of five drunken monkeys-written by the fifth.”

Well, it’s time for a change again. So I’m trying out a few possibilities.

idiotprufs: what happens when you don’t listen to that nagging little voice in your head.

idiotprufs: the blog that is wanted by the authorities for questioning.

idiotprufs: just do it. (Evidently, the people at Nike think they own everything.)

idiotprufs: the blog that got so drunk last night, it can’t remember where it left its pants.

idiotprufs: the last blog you will ever read…after you’ve stabbed your eyes out with a shrimp fork.

idiotprufs: the blog that makes my friends deny they know me.

idiotprufs: the reason most of my aunts no longer speaks to me. (I wish I had started it sooner.)

idiotprufs: the reason I’ve been burned in effigy by Bolivian pudding makers.

idiotprufs: reading it will make your breath perpetually minty fresh.

idiotprufs: the blog labeled a bitter disappointment by its parents.

idiotprufs: the blog that was a banana slug in a previous life.

idiotprufs: the blog that is…um…interesting.

Note: The above tagline is an actual quote from someone after reading this blog; I think she thought it was more polite than saying, “it made me vomit uncontrollably.”

idiotprufs: the blog that was abandoned in the wilderness, but found its way home.

idiotprufs: the new black–black is now forest green.

idiotprufs: it’s addictive like heroin, but without the needles.

idiotprufs: the subject of dozens of lawsuits.

idiotprufs: it’s only libel if isn’t true.

idiotprufs: it’s better than chugging a bowl full of Sea Monkeys.

idiotprufs: the blog that requires you to have all your shots.

idiotprufs: the crayon drawing of the literary world.

idiotprufs: not everybody that reads it suffers from a debilitating brain aneurysm…but it helps.

idiotprufs: it’s like something Mark Twain would write, but without all that annoying humor and wit.

idiotprufs: five minutes of your life that you will never get back.

idiotprufs: it’s like that rash that just won’t go away.

idiotprufs: reading it prevents scurvy.

idiotprufs: the blog that has resulted in almost zero cases of rabies.

idiotprufs: it’s practically a cure for not being an ax-wielding maniac.

idiotprufs: the blog that has never caused cancer in lab rats. (However, it is a death sentence for yaks.)

idiotprufs: Bigfoot’s favorite blog next to Outdoor Life.

idiotprufs: overlooked by the Pulitzer committee for purely political reasons.

idiotprufs: the blog that ran into Piers Morgan’s blog in a crowded bar, and beat the crap out of it.

idiotprufs: the real reason Edward Snowden fled the country.

idiotprufs: the only blog read aloud in Buckingham Palace.

idiotprufs: the blog that openly wonders if men from Nantucket ever get sick of being facetiously asked if they’re “the guy” from the limericks.

idiotprufs: the blog that caused Justin Bieber to snap.

idiotprufs: only stupid, repugnant, ugly people don’t like it.

idiotprufs: the blog that is being carefully monitored by the NSA.

idiotprufs: the greatest thing on the internet since that piano playing cat.

idiotprufs: the real father of Snooki’s baby.

idiotprufs: the blog that makes your eyes do this:

kimberly goodman

What did I just read?

idiotprufs: it’s considered a vile profanity in Portuguese.

idiotprufs: virtually none of the death threats were credible.

idiotprufs: developed in a secret underground laboratory below Martha Stewart’s house, by a race of super-smart ferrets.

Note: Mr. Squeakers, a ferret that escaped from Martha Stewart’s compound, described her home as wreaking of buttermilk pancakes and fear, but he also described it as being very tastefully decorated.

idiotprufs: the blog that’s destined to rule the world with an iron fist!

I kind of like the last one.

But Seriously

the critic

“You’re just not serious enough.”

My blog has recently received a criticism that I feel necessitates a response.

Note: when I write that my blog has received a criticism, what I mean is I’m choosing to focus on one criticism from the myriad of criticisms I have been inundated with. Criticisms of a variety and amount, they compel the use of the words myriad and inundate.

I have a meticulously constructed an eight-step process for dealing with criticism.

  1. Dismiss it initially with a forced chuckle.
  2. Allow it to slowly creep back into my thoughts.
  3. Push it to the dark recesses of my brain where it will exist as a tiny glowing ember.
  4. Consciously ignore the fact that the glowing ember is growing into a substantial blaze.
  5. Remain in a state of denial as the blaze turns into an inferno.
  6. Enter a state of white-hot seething rage.
  7. The sudden realization that I’m just being silly and I need to relax.
  8. The next day I drop a package in the mail to the criticizer. The package contains a colony of Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants. The label on the package reads: shake roughly before opening.

Note: Crazy Stinging Amazonian Bastard Ants hate to be shaken; they especially hate to be shaken roughly.

What was the criticism that triggered this post?

This blog isn’t serious enough.

Ridiculous. Here are some of the serious topics this blog has tackled:

  • The growing garden gnome menace.
  • How to deal with unruly neighbors without leaving evidence.
  • How to destroy evidence.
  • The plight of our nation: the great mime scourge.
  • How to remove white face paint from your hand.

Note: I am by no means advocating that anyone slap a mime in the face. Violence is wrong.

  • The horror of being attacked with a dead weasel.
  • The horror of being attacked with a Justin Bieber doll.
  • The less horrific nature of being attacked by Justin Bieber himself.
  • The ongoing feud between Justin Bieber and Beaker the Muppet.
  • The embarrassment of being beaten up by a piece of felt.
  • How French fries cause cancer in lab rats.
  • How everything causes cancer in lab rats.
  • Why it sucks to be a lab rat.
  • Why bulls have names like Destroyer, The Mauler, and Widow-maker.
  • Why bull-riders have names like Bucky, Earl, and that guy who used to have testicles.
  • Why rodeo clowns smell like hay, manure, and quiet desperation.
  • Boy bands and why badgers hate them.
  • The ongoing search for the existence of Bigfoot.
  • Lady Bigfoot, her breasts and the ongoing search for their existence.
  • What to do if someone accuses you of being a leprechaun.
  • Why crack cocaine is bad, and prompts others to accuse you of being a leprechaun.
  • Why crack cocaine causes others to brandish a weapon as they make wild accusations.
  • How crack cocaine can lead to your arrest.
  • Why people hate raccoons and their creepy little people hands.
  • The end of the world on December 12, 2012.
  • Other crap the Mayans got wrong.
  • Why Tom Cruise thinks we have aliens inside of us.
  • Other possible titles for Katie Holmes autobiography.
  • The discovery of a unicorn lair in North Korea
  • Other things weird little dictators believe in.
  • The correlation between great literature and monkeys throwing feces.

A veritable cornucopia of pure seriousness.

I think I’ve made my point.

Addendum

Another critic accused this blog of being almost funny. This person’s opinion almost matters.

His opinion walks right up to the edge of mattering, but just doesn’t quite get there.

His opinion sticks its toes in the ocean of mattering, but decides the water is too cold and probably filled with parasites and medical waste.

Instead of taking a nice swim, his opinion decides to go cliff diving.

The cliff diving almost goes well, but not quite.

His opinion ends its existence impaled on a jagged rock.

It’s a pity…almost.

idiotprufs, wile e coyote,

Opinions and gravity just don’t mix.

 

 

 

Irate Beaver ‘Takes Man Hostage’

mad beaver

Irate Beaver ‘Takes Man Hostage’

When I saw the headline above in my news feed, I felt an irrational giddiness, and a myriad of questions sprung to mind. (My giddiness faded slightly when I realized it didn’t read: Irate Bieber ‘Takes Man Hostage.’)

  • Did the beaver have a list of demands?
  • What was on the beaver’s list of demands?
  • Did he want a million dollars and a helicopter, or was he just after some good dam building thrush?
  • What was he so upset about?
  • Was he tired of the way his wife sarcastically says, “yeah, he’s as busy as a you-know-what,” when he hangs out with his buddies the muskrats, most of whom she does not approve?
  • Did he stumble upon a mirror and shockingly discover how ridiculous his teeth look?
  • Was he fed up with all the new EPA regulations that are making dam building a nightmare of red tape?
  • Was he just sick of hauling around stones and mud in the muck?
  • Who was the guy he’d taken hostage?
  • Was it some jerk throwing rocks at his dam?
  • Was it a smart alec who made one too many derisive comments about his big floppy tail?
  • Or was it one of those jackasses from the EPA who are always up in his business?

I decided to read the article to find out.

A rogue beaver struck terror into the heart of a man making his way home late at night in the Latvian city of Daugavpils, according to a local newspaper report picked up by Latvian Public Broadcasting.

The man, identified only as Sergei, says the beaver ran out of some bushes and suddenly bit him. He fell over as he tried to fight the rodent off and was bitten again as he tried to get up.

In what USA Today describes as a “Kafkian nightmare,” Sergei phoned police as the beaver “held him hostage” and refused to let him get up, only to have his plea for help allegedly dismissed as a prank call.

I can’t be certain, but I think USA Today may be confusing the works of Franz Kafka with Mad Magazine.

Sergei managed to persuade an initially disbelieving friend to come to his rescue, but the friend was pulled over by police for speeding. Cops—after breathalyzing the friend—accompanied him to the scene and discovered he had been telling the truth about the hostile beaver.

It is literally impossible to read the preceding paragraph and not feel happy.

And I would be remiss if I didn’t point something out: every time I’ve been pulled over for speeding because I was on my way to help a friend who was being held hostage by a beaver, the police here in the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania have been nothing but helpful. Sure, they beat me tree branches and taser me a bit, but that’s to be expected.

Animal welfare officers were called and the man’s ordeal ended with him receiving 15 stitches, though the beaver is still at large. Latvia’s TV.Net reports that authorities in Daugavpils are taking the incident seriously, though it is “quite difficult to choose the measures which should be taken” to prevent similar attacks by beavers, which can become increasingly aggressive when they seek out new homes in spring.

The beaver is still at large? So the beaver outsmarted Latvian police and animal welfare officers–good for you beaver…good for you.

And it is quite difficult to choose the measures which should be taken. So let’s do nothing, because the more stories that pop up like this one, the better. (Except for Sergei, my apologies to Sergei.)

beaver

Latvian police sketch artist rendering of alleged perpetrator–be on the lookout.

A World Record by a Nose

miller noseIn August of 1976, Tom Miller of the United States, spent 4 days, 23 hours, 47 minutes, and 3 seconds, pushing a peanut to the summit of Pike’s Peak, with his nose.

He set a new world record for pushing a peanut to the summit of Pike’s Peak with your nose and forever became known as “that weirdo who pushed a peanut to the top of Pike’s Peak with his nose.”

The Guinness Book of World Records took notice and recorded his feat not once, but twice.

#1 For pushing a peanut to the top of Pike’s Peak with his nose.

#2 For the biggest waste of 4 days, 23 hours, 47 minutes, and 3 seconds, in recorded history.

Tom Miller’s parents wept tears of joy…well, they wept a lot.

Tom Miller’s life would never be the same.

But few remember the other participant in this record-setting  journey and how he was left forever broken.

mr peanut

“Tom Miller can bite me.”

 

The Experiment

image source: wpclipart.com

This is short screenplay written by Ian Wallace, based on Frankenstein’s Omelet.

 

Opening Credits: Dream Sequence.

Characters: Main Character. Male. Mid-twenties to mid-thirties. Dressed in old-fashioned, but not period clothing.

Editing: The opening sequence will consist of a dream sequence that foreshadows the goings on in the body of the film. It would be made up of several different shots  (as described below) spliced together in an abstracted narrative format. The order in which they are presented do not necessarily dictate their sequence.

  1. The main character running through the woods as if being chased. He stumbles but doesn’t fall, and periodically looks back over his shoulder.
  2. Shot of the man’s feet running through the forest debris.
  3. Mob: Rather than bringing more cast members into the film, we could abstract farm implements and torches progressing through the woods. This would maintain the universal monster feel of this opening.
  4. Lightning Streaking across the sky.
  5. Design a makeshift lab. This doesn’t have to be anything overly elaborate, but should at least have the quintessential bubbling beakers. Easy as food coloring and dry ice. There would need to be a workbench, and dissection tools.
  6. Man presses his back against a wooden door, with the classic mob push going on behind it. He looks panicked and winded.
  7. On the workbench is a tray about the size of a dinner plate, or just a dinner plate with a cloth over it. Upon closer inspection, it appears to rising and falling as if breathing. Or more like a pulse depending on the aesthetic.
  8. Slow dolly up to the kitchen refrigerator. Three shots from medium angle light for night. Use green tape around the edge of the door so the glow can be composited in and motion tracked.
  9. As he watches the covered item on the workbench, a shot of blood soaking through the cloth. Lightning flash.
  10. These scenes will be inter-cut with the man sleeping fitfully, as if having a nightmare.  Not over the top, but enough to get the point across. Camera angle and shot variety will create the tension leading up to the point where the man wakes up and it’s morning.

Scene two: Morning

Setting:

A bedroom with a big enough bed for two. He is alone, but the blankets on both sides are disheveled, implying that someone has been there. It’s morning and the room is relatively bright.

Action:

The man jerks awake from the nightmare he was having. He’s disoriented at first, but recovers and rubs his face.

Cut to the man walking into a brightly lit kitchen. He’s awake, but still a bit tired. A woman is busy at the stove. She’s wearing morning clothes and by her mannerisms, you can tell she’s been awake for awhile. At the middle of the space is a breakfast table setting. Burnt toast, coffee, and a large plate with a cloth over it.

He strolls over to the woman:

Man: “Good Morning” he says, still groggy: kisses her on the cheek.

Woman: “It’s about time you got up, sleepy head,” she says lightly.

Man: “Yeah. I was having the weirdest…” stops abruptly as he catches sight of the refrigerator from the dream. Just a normal fridge now. “…dream.” He finishes.

Woman: “You Okay?”

Man: Shakes his head as if to clear the image. “Yeah. I guess I’m just tired.”

Woman: “Awww… I’m sorry. But I have just what you need to feel better: some good old fashioned home cooking.”

Man: Sits down in front of the plate while rubbing his eyes, so that he hasn’t caught sight of the plate covered by the cloth. “Thanks babe,” he mumbles, “what are we having?”

Woman: “Well, it’s sitting right in front of you, silly. Take a look.”

Man: He opens his eyes, looks down and freezes. It looks just like the plate with the soaking blood from the dream. (cut to shot of cloth soaking through) He looks over his shoulder, obviously slightly rattled, then back at his plate.

Woman: “Well go on before it gets cold,” she says in a motherly way, standing by the table.

Man: Gingerly he pinches the cloth and pulls it away. A plume of steam rises up and he winces as if the smell was unpleasant. Before him sits the omelet in all its glory. A pool of liquid surrounds it on the plate. Strange marks, textures and folds in pale yellow and off white. What may be a mushroom slides down it. The man stares down at it. “It looks delicious (he feigns honesty) what is it?”

Woman: “What do you mean what is it?” (sounding slightly annoyed) “It’s a home style omelet.”

Man: (Hiding his bewilderment) “Well, of course it’s an omelet. It just doesn’t seem to be a conventional omelet, that’s all.”

Woman: “Well that’s the stoves fault isn’t it? It’s not level.” (sounding more frustrated)

Man: “Not level?” he replies. “Well yeah, that’ll do it.” (trying to sound confident) Cut to the man investigating the omelet. He lifts a fold of the body and more cloudy fluid trickles out. Under the fold is an 0ff-blue, bruise like patch. Maybe the look of coagulated blood underneath a membrane.

Woman: (Now looming behind the seated man) “Well? Are you going to try it, or just look at it all day?” (covering up aggravation with forced sweetness.)

Man: Looks up at her, makes a smile and laughs nervously. He turns back towards the plate. He cuts a portion from the side with his fork and holds it up, speared. More strange fluid leaks away from the limp morsel. The man grimaces, closes his eyes and shoves it in. At first it’s fine. A look of momentary relief crosses his face. He chews it like a rubber band. Then it hits him.

Scene three: Gastrological disaster.

This scene is a hallucinatory nightmare as the man struggles with the morsel.

  1. Footage of hydrogen peroxide being poured on red meat.
  2. Beads of sweat on his forehead.
  3. Eggs and omelet makings being smashed and mutilated.
  4. Close-up of man chewing. He looks up, red in the face, toward the woman with a facial expression of “why would you do this to me?” Some of the milky liquid runs out of the corner of his mouth.
  5. The omelet on the plate is starting to pump a foul black liquid that begins to fill the bottom of the plate.
  6. Unused shots of the mob scene. (pitch forks and torches.)
  7. Close-up of the man sweating and looking panicked.
  8. Woman dressed like lady Frankenstein or in some other nightmarish costume (think of the Ms. Shields/mother scene from A Christmas Story, where the two are dressed as a jester and a witch mocking Ralphie with, “You’ll shoot your eye out.” ) laughing maniacally

Man: He finally manages to swallow it. (close-up on his throat swallowing.)

  1. Egg falling on glass, seen from underneath, and bleeding black and green. (inject egg with food coloring and drop it from high enough that it spatters.)
  2. Fluid mixing and congealing. (jello and vegetable oil.)
  3. Stock footage of church burning or volcano erupting.
  4. Woman dressed as a devil with dramatic lighting. Perhaps several people dancing around the table dressed similarly.

The man finally gets it down. Tries to keep from vomiting. Horrible stomach noises can be heard. He looks sick. Back to reality.

Woman: “Well, what do you think?”

Man: (Still looking a little ill) “Well, I can’t say I’ve ever had anything like it before. Ever.”

Woman: “Great!” she says happily, totally oblivious. She turns to go about her day. “Eat up while I get dressed.”

Man: Looks around desperately for a way to dispose of the contents of the plate.  Looks down. The woman’s dog is staring up with hopeful, hungry eyes. The man pauses, looks over his shoulder, and puts the plate on the floor. The dog gobbles the omelet down, licking up the fluid drippings from the omelet, and walks off into the other room. With trembling hands, the man grips his coffee cup and drinks.

Woman: The bathroom door opens and the woman walks out dressed. She pauses. From the other room the man hears the woman scream.

Man: Looks up with wide open, panicked eyes.  “What’s wrong?”

Woman: “The (dog’s name) has vomited everywhere. It’s on my carpet. My freaking couch. It’s everywhere–I just stepped in it.”

Man: Still frozen until he hears the dog growling from underneath the table. The dog bites his leg. The shot is from above the table as you see the man gasping from the bite.

Top Ten Ways Tom Brady has Passed the Time During his Suspension

tom brady family

Tom’s been spending a lot of time with the family lately…and with a big creepy firetruck.

As many of you are probably aware, New England Patriots’ quarterback, Tom Brady, is entering the final week of a four week suspension from the team.

The NFL imposed the suspension in an official statement that read:

As the all-powerful and omnipresent National Football League, we hereby declare that Tom Brady is liar-liar-pants-on-fire cheater. We believe he oversaw the purposeful deflating of official game balls so they would more readily fit in his tiny little-girl hands. We also believe he occasionally taunts squirrels and steals their nuts, just for the fun of it. While squirrel taunting isn’t expressly against any NFL rules, we just think it’s creepy.

As a part of the suspension, Tom can have no contact with the team or his teammates. So he had to find ways to pass the time.

#10

Needlepoint: Tom has mastered the craft of counted thread embroidery. His home is now decorated with dozens of embroideries that bear the same quaint saying: Roger Goodell Sucks.

#9

Ancestry.com: upon studying his ancestry, Tom discovered he is descended from a famous 19th century hot-air balloonist. Tragically his ancestor perished when he attempted to make a flight with his balloon badly under-inflated.

#8

Football Accident: Tom has been dealing with the fallout after inadvertently hitting his sister, Marcia Brady, in the face with a football on the day of her big date with Doug Simpson the local football star.

football brady

Tom Brady’s sister: Marcia Brady.

#7

Giselle: he’s been spending a great deal of time hanging out with his wife, Giselle, and her friends.

Victoria's Secret

In case you were starting to feel sorry for Tom…don’t.

#6

Scrapbooking: after taking a scrapbooking course at the local learning annex, Tom compiled a complete history of the entire deflategate saga. He entitled it: Roger Goodell Sucks.

#5

Some Light Reading: Tom read The Truth about Inflation by Paul Donovan. It had absolutely nothing to do with footballs.

Tom Brady

A horribly misleading title.

#4

Some more light reading: after the bitter disappointment of The Truth about Inflation, Tom joined a book club. They were reading The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants by Ann Brashares. He found it to be heartwarming, and lamented that he and Rob Gronkowski can never find a pair a jeans that perfectly fits them both.

Note: Tom also read a biography of Roger Goodell–it sucked.

#3

Part-Time Job: Tom took a part-time job at a local service station checking tire pressure. He was let go for obvious reasons.

#2

Frivolous Lawsuit: Tom has filed a ridiculous and petty lawsuit against a small-time blogger who may have or may not have implied that Tom occasionally taunts squirrels and steals their nuts.

#1

Viagra Spokesman:

brady

“When that special moment starts to happen, is your “game ball” under-inflated?”

Man Jailed After Destructive Tirade

monkey North East PA

Monkey shocked by recent events.

North East, Pennsylvania–In a bizarre story involving a construction site, a mischievous monkey, and a bulldozer; a man was taken into custody following a destructive tirade.

It seems the man, who was traveling with the monkey, had stopped at a local market to pick up a few things. While he was inside, the monkey made his way across the street and onto a construction site where he found an idling bulldozer.

I look up and I see the bulldozer tearing across the lot,” said Dirk, one of the construction workers who witnessed the incident. “I thought that Earl had lost his mind, but then I look and I see this freakin’ monkey, and he’s driving the bulldozer. We always joke with Earl that a monkey could drive a bulldozer…I guess we were right.”

According to Dirk, the monkey swerved around the lot before making a beeline toward the Porta-Johns. “Guys were jumping up and down and waving the monkey away from the Porta-Johns…the monkey just waved back. The bulldozer hit those Porta-Johns, and they went flying through the air. They hit the ground and blew into pieces; they really aren’t made for that type of thing. It’s a good thing no one was in them…except for Earl that is.”

Yeah that’s right,” another witness confirmed. “From out of the Porta-John rubble climbs Earl, covered with crap, literally.”

According to witnesses, it was at this point the man in question arrived.

This guy dressed in a yellow suit comes running across the lot and screaming at the monkey. I mean, from head to toe everything he’s got on is yellow–that’s weird isn’t it?” Dirk commented.

Everyone agreed that it was a little weird.

So now the guy is chasing the monkey on the bulldozer. He’s trying to grab the monkey but the monkey won’t let him. Each time the guy gets close, the monkey hurls crap at him. The monkey is steering with one hand and hurling crap with the other. He really puts Earl to shame…driving a bulldozer I mean–not hurling crap.  Anyway, the guy in yellow is ducking and dodging the monkey crap, and he’s really quick, like he’s done this before. But then, he catches one square in the forehead. The guy just stops dead in his tracks, he gets this crazy look in his eyes and he starts screaming: ‘that’s it, that’s the limit.'”

Many of the witnesses told the authorities they had never seen a man with such a wild look in his eyes.

I guess the monkey could tell he was in trouble, because it jumps off the bulldozer and tears off. Then the man in yellow hat gets on the bulldozer, and now he’s chasing the monkey. He’s smashing through walls and knocking things over, the monkey’s scrambling around with the bulldozer right on his tail. The monkey climbs over a pick-up truck to get away, but the man just plows into the truck, and the truck flips over. Earl’s screaming and running over there because it’s his truck.

The police arrived on the scene shortly afterward.

I just couldn’t take it anymore,” the man in yellow told police as they took him away. “He just keeps getting into more and more trouble, and it’s really pissing me off.

Animal control came and retrieved the monkey, but not before the monkey stole their tranquilizer gun, climbed a pole, and put four rounds in Earl’s buttocks.

It was not a good day for Earl.

When asked to comment, Earl said only, “F******  monkey.”

I heard the man in yellow refer to the monkey as George,” Dirk said reflectively. “That monkey sure was a curious little thing.”

porta-john

Pre-monkey Porta-Johns.

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