Archive for December, 2008

Zombie Baseball (Thank you David Prentice)

A Fun Musical Puzzle Game

Ancient game commercial goodness:

Here’s A new game commercial I like:

Here’s the video for the song used in the last commercial:

Here’s another video by the same band:

These are all quotes, involving pants, that have been actually said in my presence.

1. “Wow, your pants smell fascinating today.”

2. “Aw, lookit how cute she is. Isn’t she just adorable? Look at how AAAAAAAAUUUUGH! Get it out of my pants! Get it out of my pants!”

3. “Hey! It’s been years since I forgot to put on pants before I left the house.”

4. “Those are rather unfortunate pants.”

5. “Okay, I suppose that it makes perfect sense for you to have a pair of Spongebob pants to match your wife’s Spongebob lingerie. Now why does your wife have Spongebob lingerie?”

6. “Now that you mention it, yes. The talking pickle has been in his pants.”

7. “Are we going to label the things that have been in his pants?”
“No we are going to label the things that have not been in his pants. It’s faster.”

8. “I have to tell you something that might disturb you. Two lesbians have just had sex in your pants.”

Now many of you may be wondering why I have put up a list of strange quotes with no explanation. (Others have probably given up wondering just what the hell I’m up to.)

Well obviously this is a way of leading in to my new Pants Contest.

I mean duh, what else could it be.

I currently still have a small pile of Squid Pie t-shirts left.  And so whoever posts the best pants related quote in the comments section will get a free one sent to them. Contest ends whenever I say it does, and like all things of importance, final judgment rests with Skippy.

Furthermore I’m sure that several of you want to know what the hell happened that caused these quotes to be um… be-quoted at me in the first place.  Well I will reveal provided that I receive some reader submissions to post up on here.  The holidays are coming up and everybody is very selfishly spending them doing charity work, or spending time with their family instead of sending in content for my site.  Picking up the slack would eat into my Left4Dead time, which means you might as well just hand Riverside over to those undead flesh-hungry bastards.

So the other day I was talking about boobies with some associates of mine.

I find boobies to be somewhat enigmatic… they’re like… well, have you ever seen an artificial hill?  Often when a landfill’s reached its capacity, a municipality will cover it in a large plastic shield and then put earth and grass on top.  Sometimes they turn these suckers into parks or golf courses or sometimes they just leave ‘em for us to look at.  Boobies are like that.  Not in that they’re both aesthetically pleasing or potentially functional, but in that it’s like just a heap of shit under a nipple and some soft flesh.  And yet, we men are drawn to them.  Little ones, big ones, gargantuan ones, novelty ones; innies, outies, roundabouts; for every kind of boobie there’s an eager fellow itchin’ for a squeeze.

And it seems to me women just don’t really think all that much about their lady-berries.  Sure they try to buy clothes that make them look pronounced, they’ll stuff their bras with tissues, they’ll pay thousands of dollars to get silicone sacks stuffed into their chests.  But to most, I believe, that stuff’s no different than how we men shave our beards or cut our hair.  It doesn’t really matter to us, we just adhere to a certain aesthetic because we think looking decent will make women want to talk to us.  We don’t care about our hair like we care about our dicks.  To the ladies, their boobies are like a special elbow or a really mushy chin, just another body part that only matters because we like it so much.

Another thing about women that I was lecturing a young fan of the site about: their bodies are like giant penises.  You could say they’re made entirely of Guitar Hero dick flesh–only the buttons aren’t as colorful and the game tends to be more frustrating.  The DLC costs a fuckton too.  But they’re compatible with a huge range of peripherals so you don’t have to worry about buying different controllers for different versions.  Not like that Rockband/Guitar Hero bullshit.  There are some cheat codes, but you could save a whole lot of a time buy simply investing in a GameShark-equivalent.

I think I ought to teach high school sex ed…

Polkster has his own site, and if you click here it will make him squeal with delight.

It’s Monday. Which as you all know means it’s time for yet another list of things that you should probably not do. This time it’s for ER admittance.

(Submitted by Ekatseyanis)

1. Security is not my bitch
2. Nor is housekeeping
3. Or the valets
4. Not allowed to hit patients
5. Even if they hit me first
6. Not allowed to yell at patients
7. Even if they are being belligerent
8. Not allowed to make fun of patients
9. He is not “Messily Drunk” he is “Intoxicated”
10. He is not “Crazy” he is a “Psych Patient”
11. I cannot take holiday pay for every full moon I work
12. I am not a doctor
13. Advising a patient that the wait is two hours is ok; telling them to go home and take some Motrin is not
14. The fish in the fish tank don’t like Tootsie Rolls
15. I cannot suggest to patients that losing 100 pounds might be beneficial to their health
16. We are obligated to provide care to anyone who comes in, even if it’s dental pain
17. Medicaid patients are not freeloaders and I should stop insinuating that they are
18. The Sabbats are not federal holidays
19. Not allowed to argue with Catholics
20. Even if they started it
21. Not allowed to bet on patient’s diagnoses before they see the doctor
22. Not allowed to refer to patients as “Frequent Fliers” even if they are here every week
23. Not allowed to scare patients with all the things that MIGHT be wrong with them
24. Not allowed to tell patients about all the cool injuries I’ve seen
25. Not allowed to scare new employees with stories about all the cool injuries I’ve seen
26. In fact if the story starts with “I saw the coolest/grosses thing…” I should probably keep it to myself
27. The box of free stuff in the back office is for patients with grievances, not for me
28. Not allowed to puke in front of patients
29. Even if I am pregnant
30. Even if I’m pregnant and they smell like ass
31. Not allowed to ask a patient to see their injury
32. Even if a patients is jabbering away at me in Somali, I still have to smile and try to understand them, I cannot cut them off and ask them if they brought a friend who speaks English
33. I should warn visitors that the automatic doors swing out, not laugh when I hit the button and they get smacked in the face
34. Radiology techs don’t glow in the dark and I shouldn’t test that
35. “I don’t know” is not a proper response to any question posed by a patient
36. Or a staff member
37. In fact, I am assumed to be the receptacle of all knowledge relating to the hospital
38. When administration asks how I am this morning, they don’t actually want to know so I am always “Fine”
39. Not allowed to take bets on how many different drugs will be found in a patient’s system
40. Cracking jokes about “The crazy in room 4″ is generally frowned up, especially if said crazy’s family happens to be within ear-shot

You know how some kids have imaginary friends? They are their best friends in the world who they communicate with, and are almost real for them.

My 7 year-old daughter, who you may or may not remember told off a hot woman who was hitting on me, does not have imaginary friends.

She has an imaginary corporation, with imaginary stock holders, an imaginary board of directors, of which she is the CEO, and a janitorial staff, who is contracted through a temp agency of course.

I found out about her corporate undertakings when walking past her room last weekend and overheard her yelling at her assistant over an old bluetooth earpiece. She finished her imaginary conversation with, “if this merger fails to go through, so help me God, I will fire you and have the daycare center withhold your children from you.” I’m not sure what impresses me more, her ruthlessness or that her imaginary corporate offices has an imaginary daycare center.

I asked her about her company and she read me her mission statement (She didn’t know what the hell a mission statement was, but she had one). She then went on to explain to me about the ethical dilemma that she was having with her IT guy, Bill, because he’s an alcoholic, with whom she’s smelled booze on his breath on more than one occasion, but he works for peanuts and is very competent. She said that she was okay with overlooking it, but lately he’s been hitting on her up-and-coming protege, Emily, and Emily isn’t very receptive to this sort of treatment.

My sweet daughter went on to tell me that she has taken to hiring a former Superbowl player, whose name she cannot release at this time due to contractual obligations, to do motivational speaking for her company.

She doesn’t watch adult TV shows, she has limited use of the internet, and I have no idea where the heck she comes up with this stuff, except that I was the same damn way when I was 7, and I’ve only been a two weekend a month, every other holiday and 60% of the summertime dad, when not deployed. Her mother has no clue either, and her dumbass couldn’t cultivate this in our daughter, so this is, in addition to being pretty funny, wierd as hell.

With Yule right around the corner I finally got out my Yule tree and decorations. You may notice that I use the term Yule instead of Christmas, but that is another story. This one however involves certain things I rediscovered while unpacking my artificial Yule tree. Those things include:

1. A specific strand of holiday lights
2. My previous Yule tree
3. Several Yule presents which were never given
4. A train set
5. A large red cylinder with a black hose attached to it

The story goes something like this:

Did you know you should always use a certified electrician when running a new power outlet? Here is why:

• Twas the week before Yule, and all through the house
• Everything was quiet, even my pet mouse
• The wife was out shopping, with my sister-in-law
• Then the silence was broken by a reciprocating saw
• I was cutting a hole, in the living room wall
• I was laughing and singing, simply having a ball.
• See there were no outlets, in the place I had cut
• To plug in the lights for the Yule tree I had cut
• I was running new wires, from breaker to hole
• To brighten my wife’s Yule, and lift her soul.
• I connected the wires, plugged in the tree
• Plugged in the train, ho ho he he
• I threw the breaker, then began to choke
• For while hearing pops, I smelled smoke
• I ran to the room and began to perspire
• My Tree, My Train and presents on fire!
• Did you know that house power, comes in three types
• I had connected too much, two twenty volts to be precise
• The lights had all burst, igniting my tree
• The fire then consumed my presents you see
• The train itself had burst into flame
• Too much power, the cause the same
• So if you are thinking, you know what to do
• When lacking an outlet for holidays too
• Then listen to me, I’ll say it again
• Always, Always, hire and electrician!

Now for further clarification:

1. The holiday lights were un-fused and every bulb had burst, as well as electrically welded to their sockets.
2. The “Yule Tree” was little more than a charred lump of wood that I had kept to remind me not to play with electricity.
3. The presents were of course the remains of the ones I had put under the tree
4. The train set was little more than a lump of molten plastic and twisted metal
5. The red cylinder was of course a fire extinguisher

The good news is the house didn’t burn down. The bad: my wife didn’t get her PlayStation 3 or the new coat I had bought her.

I hope you all enjoy this!

I’m not going to pretend that I have even partial justification for my actions.

But it’s amazing what you can get away with when you have a sock puppet.