idiotprufs

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

Archive for the tag “pooh”

Is It True?

 

Adorable children's favorite, and possible tattoo subject.

Loveable children’s favorite, and possible body art subject.

In a previous post, Bees and Calligraphy, I wrote the following about bees:

They make honey, that sweet nectar byproduct without which Pooh Bear would have never gotten his head caught in a honey pot, in that adorable image by A. A. Milne. If it weren’t for that image, I’d have nothing tattooed to my left butt cheek.

This revelation elicited a myriad of responses:

  • That’s weird.
  • That’s funny.
  • That’s unusual.
  • That’s weird in a funny and unusual way.
  • That’s adorable.
  • Wait, it’s on your butt? That’s not adorable, that’s horrifying. You’ve defiled a precious childhood memory. If I ever meet you in person, I will whomp you on the head with an ax handle.
  • May I see it?
  • A.A. Milne is turning over in his grave.
  • That’s amazing. I have the same tattoo on my left breast.
  • Stop following me you creep, or I’m going to blast you in the face with pepper spray.
  • I’m going to consume alcohol until every brain cell I have containing that mental image is destroyed.
  • Ick.

Note: Upon reflection, the thing about the pepper spray is probably an entirely unrelated matter.

But I have a confession to make: it’s all a horrible lie.

I don’t have a tattoo of Pooh Bear or any other beloved cartoon character on my left butt cheek. In fact, I haven’t any tattoo of any kind anywhere on my body.

I know what you’re thinking now: has everything I’ve read on this blog been nothing but falsehoods and mindless tripe. Allow me to clear the air regarding a few items that have appeared in this blog.

  • Did a crack-head, wielding a razor blade, really accuse me of being a leprechaun: yes.
  • Did I work in a place where the foreman had a pathological hatred of raccoons because they have “little people hands”: yes.
  • Did I meet Bigfoot in a local pub and enrage him when I accused him of having chiggers: I wish.
  • Did I ridicule a Bigfoot hunter when he claimed the best way to escape a female Bigfoot was to run downhill, because female Bigfoot can’t run downhill due to their large floppy breasts: awesomely, yes.
  • Did I subsequently interview Lady Bigfoot regarding the allegation that she has large floppy breasts: don’t be ridiculous…her breasts were immaculate.
  • Did I receive an angry letter from, Eduardo, a Bolivian pudding maker, after I may have implied an association between Bolivian pudding and Egyptian dung beetles: no. I did, however, receive a scathing letter from an Egyptian dung beetle.
  • Was I frisked and manhandled by the police in Amarillo, Texas: they’re a handsy group.
  • Did I once pull on to the tram line in Buffalo, New York, after mistakenly believing it to be a weird little street and get the vehicle wedged between the curbs: yes.
  • Did I once inadvertently wash my hair with flea and tick shampoo: shut up!
  • Did I dig a moat around my home to keep out Gerald the neighbor kid: I’m still waiting on the permits.
  • Did I put piranha in the moat: weren’t you paying attention, there’s no moat…yet.
  • Was I denied the sale of eggs after jokingly telling the cashier that I was going to throw them at a police car: people just don’t get my sense of humor.
  • Did I inadvertently set another person’s vacuĆ¼m cleaner and carpet on fire: let’s just say mistakes were made.
  • Do I really have an irrational hatred of mimes: it’s not irrational.
  • Did I really smash a mooning garden gnome with a shovel because its butt was directed at my kitchen window: not that you or anyone else can prove.
  • Was I once taken captive by a crazy woman–Misery style– because I had stopped writing this blog to focus my Jersey Shore fan fiction: I’m going to yes because I know you want it to be true.
  • Do I write Jersey Shore fan fiction: If only I had that type of ability.

Now that this burden has been lifted from my conscience, the healing can begin.

vacuum on fire

Yes. This really happened.

 

Questions, Tattoos, and Questions about Tattoos

questionThroughout the course of my life I’ve been asked many questions:

Is that how your face has always looked, or were you involved in some unspeakable incident involving farm equipment, a vat of boiling acid, and a pack of ravenous ostriches?

Yes, but the ostriches weren’t ravenous–they were only slightly peckish.

Do your understand your Miranda rights as they’ve been read to you?

I’ve never met Miranda, I’m sure she’s a wonderful girl, but I don’t know why the police are always going on about her.

Did you think it wise to urinate on that police officer’s foot?

My buddy Jack Daniels thought it would be hilarious.

Did you smash my garden gnome with a shovel?

Not that you can prove, but yes.

But this is the question I’ve received the most:

Do you really have a tattoo of Winnie the Pooh with his head stuck in a honey pot on your left buttock?

 

Sadly, it was only drawn in marker and my monthly shower has caused it to fade to near imperceptibility.

But it has caused me to ponder something: if I were to get a tattoo, what would that tattoo be and where would it be placed?

I’ve come up with a few possibilities.

Winnie the Pooh with his head stuck in a honey pot on my left buttock.

It’s a classic and it has to be considered.

Dolph Lundgren’s face tattooed on my face so that I look like Dolph Lundgren.

I haven’t been perfecting my Dolph Lundgren impression over the past 20 years for nothing.

dolph lundgren

“If he dies–he dies.”

A brightly colored butterfly on my forehead.

It would distract from the carnage left behind by the unspeakable incident involving farm equipment, a vat of boiling acid, and a pack of slightly peckish ostriches.

Charles Manson’s face on my chest.

I need to cover the tattoo of Kanye West’s face on my chest with something less offensive.

That Miranda chick the police are always going on about.

miranda

Carmen Miranda.

This seems like an odd person for a cop to bring up moments after you’ve peed on his foot.

Mimes, everywhere a tattoo can be put.

If I’m going to do something I may regret in the future–I might as well really regret it.

There are so many great possibilities I am in an absolute quandary.

If you have any suggestions about my tattoo, I’m keen to hear them.

It’s a classic.

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