Random Facts (1/19) - Nobody knew what a water chestnut was until we wrapped it in bacon.
Child's Play 2007

Dec 29, 2007

Classic Ass #006: Life Lessons/Observations


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Every Saturday, one of us will post a blog post from our past in order to let you really get to know us... and laugh at us. Over the past century or so, I posted many a small life lesson/observation. Here are some of my favorites:

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How to Tell If Your Vegetarian Girlfriend Has Been Sneaking Meat:

-You discover a treatise on her laptop entitled "the benefits of venison."

-She receives a lifetime-achievement award in the mail from the American Beef Council.

-At the deli, she purrs, "Hey there, killer," to the counter boy.

-She begins to display inappropriate signs of aggressiveness, like repeatedly shouting, "In your face, buddy," during a round of mini-golf, and giving the bird to a flock of actual birds.

-You overhear her tell the waiter to "make it bloody."

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Apples and oranges aren't that different, really. I mean, they're both fruit. They both contain acidic elements. They're both roughly spherical. They serve the same social purpose. With the possible exception of a tangerine, I can't think of anything more similar to an orange than an apple. If I was having lunch with a man who was eating an apple and, while looking away, he replaced that apple with an orange, I doubt I'd even notice. So how is this a metaphor for difference? I could understand if you said, "That's like comparing apples and uranium," or "That's like comparing apples and the early work of Raymond Carver," or "That's like comparing apples with hermaphroditic ground sloths." Those would all be valid examples of profound disparity. But not apples and oranges. In every meaningful way, they're virtually identical.

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It's funny that pirates were always going around searching for treasure, and they never realized that the real treasure was the fond memories they were creating...

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Some people sky dive, other people bungie jump. Me, I drive to the store without my cell phone. Yeah, that’s right, I’m a rebel. Sure, something could happen to me. Sure, my car could break down and while walking to the nearest pay phone I could trip and break my leg, making my tele-pay transaction nearly impossible. But you know what, I’m a risk seeker. I laugh at the face of death… or at the risk of being mildly inconvenienced. Sure, I could be driving to Wendy’s to pick up a hamburger for a friend and then he suddenly changes his mind and wants a salad instead. I take the risk of being mildly inconvenienced each and every time I step outside my house without a cell phone.

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I'm looking for a girl who's capable enough to assist me in the moderate task of conquering this planet and enslaving its populace simply because I don't want to have to do it by myself. Obviously, she'll have to be able to fit into the boots that will brutally crush all who would dare oppose us and our enlightened leadership, because if we do it lovingly together, it sets a good example for those among the cowering masses who manage to survive the Great Purges of the burgeoning Era of Pain. Because, hey, I believe in family values.

I've got a couple of candidates in mind. We'll see what happens...

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THINGS I'D RATHER DO THAN GO SEE THE MOVIE 'CATWOMAN'


-Build a sandcastle for the sole purpose of having it kicked in my face.

-Fall from a reasonably high ledge.

-Be really really really ridiculously good looking.

-Have a new STD that makes angry hornets spontaneously generate in my anus, and it's caused by masturbation.

-Rip a dollar bill into three unequal pieces.

-Come down with a sickening case of leprosy, then constantly sing the old Kermit the Frog classic 'Its Not Easy Being Green' just because the irony makes me chuckle.

-See a lost puppy slowly freezing to death at 5:11 a.m. on Christmas.

-Wake up very early and go running.

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The main difference between humans and robots is that robots will ultimately turn on their creators and destroy the human race, whereas all we'll do is beg God for mercy while they're splitting open our skulls and digitizing our babies.

See you in church, suckers.



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Dec 28, 2007

How To Tell A Swissman From A Frenchman


My Ugly Mug

My last name is Coincon. To the uninitiated, Coincon is a rather hard name to pronounce, and the cidilla under the second C doesn't help matters. Most people mangle the pronounciation horribly and then cry "OMG, is that French?!?!?1/1?" I am usually able to keep from crying after such an accusation, but not always. The sauce helps.

Despite outward linguistic appearences, I'm actually Swiss. That's right, Swiss. I would make disparaging remarks about the French at this point to drive the point home, but my people are renowned for their neutrality. And chocolate. Therefore, in an attempt to stave off future traumatic experiences, I have compiled (see: pulled From Out My Ass (FOMA)) this list of ways by which the layperson may easily distinguish between a proud, versatile Swiss monolith and loathsome, cowardly French vermin. Note for the record how diplomatically I presented that last statement.

1: Observe your Subject at dinner.
-If he has before him a heaping plate, comprised of hearty, man-portioned representatives of every food group, to include the oft-maligned Beer, the Subject is a Swissman.
-If the Subject's plate looks to contain only a few patches of what might be mold from a distance, fit only to provide sustainence for small infant females or perhaps dormice, yet beside the ill-washed plate is a glass of wine so disproportionately large that one could conceivably use it to drown the aforementioned small infant female slash dormouse, the Subject is a Frenchman.

2: Observe your Subject after his morning shave.
-If the Subject's post-shave jaw is of a definative statuesque caliber, fit for crushing various rocks or gouging the eyes of the Subject's various nemesees, the kind of stony, confident chin that makes one fear for the continued verticality of any wall impeding the Subject's path, the Subject is a Swissman.
-If, despite the best efforts of myriad razor-like implements, the Subject's weedy countenance retains a pathetic, shadowy line of hair just above his upper lip fit only for bringing disdainful tears of mirth to the eyes of small infant females, the Subject is a Frenchman.

3: Ask your Subject for the time.
-If he promptly provides it to within two decimal places of millisecond precision from an exquisite timepiece that looks able to withstand a nuclear blast and still blind onlookers with its radiance, the Subject is a Swissman.
-If he holds his wrist up to the light in a vain attempt to improve the shadow resolution on his crudely hewn sundial of lower forearm ornamenture while stuggling to breathe and check the time simultaneously, the Subject is Canadian. *NOTE: A true Frenchman would have fled at the sound of your voice.*

4: Inquire as to the Subject's country's major exports.
-If the Subject lists such items as exquisite chocolates, badass army knives, sub-freezing levelheadedness, and prehensile phallusees, the Subject is a Swissman. And you should give him your number. Don't deny yourself an ironclad transcendant experience.
-If the Subject lists such items as smelly cheeses, self-fellatizing films, and capitulation, the Subject is a Frenchman. And likely speaking from behind the nearest available cover (see: method 3).

5: At a crowded party, fire a pistol into the air.
-If the Subject immediately rips off his T-shirt, waves it in the air as a makeshift white flag, and cedes the Bordeaux region to you in perpetuity, the Subject is a Frenchman.
-If the Subject bears the nearest attractive female to the ground, shields her with his body, and whispers softly in her ear "You are safe now, cherie" while simultaneously caressing her with his previously established elephant-trunk-esque wang, causing the female to moan lustfully and rip off HER T-shirt, the Subject is not only Swiss but probably also Cajun.
-If the Subject was already weeping in a corner over the accumulated facts that she is a) being ignored completely by every male at the party; b) built more solidly than most of the males at the party; and c) has more facial hair than most of the males at the party, the Subject is Canadian. Or possibly East German.

Keep these tips handy (in addition to a pistol) and you will never be caught in a Swiss/French faux pas. And hopefully I will stop crying myself to sleep at night.



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Dec 27, 2007

Four Constants in Life: Birth, Taxes, Death and...

Sad Chad
The Red Ring. But not just any red ring, the xbox 360 red ring of death!
That is Chad. Chad is sad. Why, you ask is Chad sad? Well Jimmy, see those red lights on that 360? Do you know what that means? No? Well you should by now, it's all over the internets. Has been for going on two years now. This is the xbox red ring of death.

Poor Chad is on his second xbox that just red ringed a week ago. I gave him that picture and left him with this note, "I am sorry for your recent loss. Here is a picture that I imagine is 100% true and not doctored in any form of shop that edits photos, in what happened when your loss occured." Let's face it, a red ring is kind of like a death in the family isn't it?

The cause of the red ring has been under scrutiny for some time now but the fact of the matter is, when (a matter of when, not if) it happens, it sucks. You are usually left without a 360 for about two weeks. This would be slightly more acceptable if this were his first xbox. Now, I understand some people are on xbox number 4 and 5, but when you receive a brand new (see: refurbished) xbox 360 a year and a half after release, you tend to expect the bugs to be worked out.

Now, as everyone no doubt already knows, MS has finally sucked it up and "admitted" a fault on their behalf with their extensions of all warranties to three years. Don't get me wrong, I love my xbox. After my skin eye of the original, the 360 won my heart over. Well, that and the fact that the competition isn't quite up to snuff yet. I only mention ps3 there because the Wii is in a league of it's own. Nightly games of Gears of War and Call of Duty 4 dance in my head as I dream.

In one respect I envy him... That bastard will get a new xbox... equipped with an HDMI port... and for that I hate him. Also, does anyone else find it intresting that a red ring signifies a problem on the 360 and a blue screen signifies a problem in windows? What's next?


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Classic Ass #005: Feeling Homeless


outta ur league! next!

After having a rough week, month, YEAR; I decided to just have some warm, soothing tea to accompany my sad, cold soul. I heart tea.

I scrummage through our cabinet (not just any cabinet, a METAL cabinet), and lo and behold, COFFEE. I thought, "Coffee sounds really good right now." With a huge grin on my face, I take the box off the shelf.

The label reads CAPPUCINO, but the rest of the box is in Chinese. The foreign Chinese characters should've been my first sign to stick to my tea. (I only know the basics; apparently I flunked out of Chinese school due to my tardiness; totally due to my family's lateness, not me!). But, I'm Asian, so crazy lines and shapes don't scare me!

My mom and sister are coffee lovers. But, my mom is hardcore. She pretty much drinks it straight up with very little sugar; but sometimes, her sweet tooth gets the best of her and she mixes in some condense milk or milk/sugar or cream/sugar. Excitedly, I get the water going on the stove, I grab my cup, spoon and marshmallow (yes, marshies are for chocolate milk, but I don't care! Not today anyways!).

Now, my second warning should've been the realization that this is INSTANT 'Cappucino' mix.

Any of you know any good, delicious instant coffee mixes!? I do! There's so many that's it's ridiculous! Is it good for you? Probably not, but it doesn't matter! It's coffee!!

The water is boiling hot by now, so I shut off the fire, pour half a cup of water into my cup, take out a package mix, rip it open and pour the contents in. I watched as the contents slowly melt and dissolve until it reaches its desired equilibrium. Mmm, coffee. Fresh (pretend fresh) coffee. I pour in the rest of the water and begin to stir the mix. I tasted the coffee, and it's kind of bland. "Do I need to put other stuff in it?," I wonder.

Stir, stir, stir, stir, stir, stir, sip, stir stir stirstirstir sip. Hmmm, this tastes o-k. Coffee drinkers, you know you have to sniff your 'fresh' brewed coffee because hot coffee smells good!! There's just something comforting about hot coffee.

I tilt my head down and sniff, sip. Sip, sniff. "Hmmmm, what's that weird smell." Sip, sniff, sniff sniff. "There, that weird smell again; it smells familiar." Sniff sniff sniff sniiiiiiifff, sniff sniff. sniff.

"GROSS!!!!!!!"

I toss the coffee down the drain and made myself a Folger's instant coffee with condensed milk and marshmallow.

Can you guess what it smelled like??

PEE. Not just any pee. Not the kind where you drank so much coffee that your pee smells like coffee. Not the kind from your pet hamster because you're too lazy to clean the cage. It smells like the kind where you walk passed a homeless person and you can't help but smell the urine on him because the stench somehow creeps through your nostrils and fills your nasal cavity even though you hold your breathe.

So there you have it folks. I drank pee coffee.




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What They Don't Teach You In School


outta ur league! next!

School, for many, will take up, waste, and educate us for most of our lives. But, who really learns anything from school? Most of us tune out what happens from K-12 and even in college. Why? Mainly because their teachings come from textbooks. We grimace at the words of 'homework' or 'read chapter 5'; mainly because we picture this large textbook suffocating our lives.

As you know, textbook language is like a secret code. You have to actually think to process what you just read. See? You had to reread that sentence, right? When you decipher this code, you feel an enlightenment has come over you. Like a, "Hallelujah" moment.

Well, I'm here to bring you more "Hallelujah" moments; moments of 'never heard before', moments of pure reminders, moments of 'holy no way!', and just pure moments about life and everything in it. Because, we all deserve more "Hallelujah" moments even if we are dumb as a door knob or sheltered like a caged hamster.

Hallelujah moment #1: Five reasons why you shouldn't bully others.

5) You have to deal with 'authorities'
4) A voodoo doll of you exists--which explains all that pain in your groin
3) The bullied will end up being your boss and they'll make you pay then!
2) Karma is a bitch.
1) Columbine/Virginia Tech #22910 will happen

No matter how much fun we think it is, in the end, you'll pay a price. Like idiots, you all wish to only reach #5 and never #1; but it never works out in your favor, does it?

Moments Poem #1

Sad
bully of mine;
you died
but,
no one cried.




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Dec 26, 2007

Tuesday Top Five on Wednesday: Return Edition


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Welcome to the long demanded, never reprimanded return of the Tuesday Top Five on Wednesday! Each week (or when I don't forget), I will present at least one top five list on Wednesday for you to mull over, agree with, disagree with, or ignore completely! It is the Tuesday Top Five because alliteration is always fun. But I present it to you on Wednesday because Wednesday should not be shunned just because its the longest word of all of the days.

My Top Five Current Weaknesses

5. Bears
4. Large Russians
3. Words that begin with the letter x that aren't xylophone
2. Dakota Fanning
1. Bullets

Honorable Mention: Pain, sharp objects, women

Top Five Nicknames For Someone Named Wesley

5. Wes
4. Wessles
3. Simply The Wes (dun dun dun dun, better than all the rest)
2. Leslie
1. Westicle




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Dec 25, 2007

Merry Christmas

Gerry

Merry Christmas to you and all yours. I hope everyone's day is going well and you got all the presents you wanted. And if you didn't get them, well then stop being naughty! Two lumps of coal for you. And maybe for us for not updating often... but this isn't about us, this is about YOU!

I will let our HJIC take care of the Hanukkah wishes.

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