February 19, 2008
- If your puppy carries home a scalp in his furry little maw, the best thing to do is take it door-to-door and see if anyone answers with a bloody dome and a very bad mood.
- One of my favorite types of news stories: Young punks try to assault old man and get their asses shot instead.
- I heard a commercial claiming that the best way to get a woman to take her clothes off is to give her a pajamagram. Is this true? If so, I know quite a few people who are going to be getting pajamagrams from me.
- Some search engine terms that brought people here: chicken pox on buttocks; plump granma; doctor tushie; naked buttocks beating; bouncing butt; mermaid porn; horny mermaids; nice bum where you from; kid cutting man’s head off; dragon’s penis; fat butt pants say juicy; bouncing butt painting. If anyone has a video of the last one, I’d like to see it.
- The other day, Mrs. Jimmy and I tried to impress upon our daughter the importance of not tying things around her neck. “You could die,” was the ultimate lesson. My daughter then informed me that I was not to do any harm to myself, because if I died, I might fall through the wall and break the house, then the cold air would get in, and when (Aunt) Cami and (cousin) Ashton visited, they might get cold. So you see, it is vitally important that I live so the relatives don’t get cold.
- Another school shooting somewhere (you can fill in the blank as to location). However, I’m not taken in by this hoax. Schools are gun-free zones, so it’s impossible to be shot at school. Tell the news media to go peddle this lie somewhere else.
- Our girls each got a disposable camera for Christmas, and yesterday I stood at the sink at some level of undress when I heard, “Smile, Dad!” along with hearing a click and seeing a flash. The girl at the photo lab is in for quite a surprise, I’d reckon.
- Nebraska is considering abolishing the death penalty. Isn’t it interesting how laws protecting convicted murders work every time? While the innocent continue to suffer cruel and unusual punishment? Maybe we should all become criminals.
Don’t eat the yellow snow.
January 31, 2008
- From the “Kids Don’t Come With Instructions”department: I had to intervene in an argument between my 4-year-old daughters. The beef? One of them said, “Sissy took the ice cream away from my feet.” I responded with Churchillian eloquence: “I don’t want anyone stealing ice cream from feet!!!” That’ll teach ’em.
- The other day I was in the bathtub when the doorbell rang. Expecting a package, I ran for the door, dripping wet, trying to get my bathrobe on. Upon returning to the tub, I noticed that on my way back I stepped into all of the wet footprints I’d left on my way to the front door. After I was dressed and walking around, I continued to step in the wet footprints. In other words, whether I’m going here or there, I step in the exact same place every time. If I live here long enough, I’ll have left divots in the floor where my feet always land.
- I laughed at this. I mean, crying, tears-and-snot-and-saliva-coursing-down-your-face laughed. Maybe you will, too. (Can’t vouch for other site content. Mostly because it’s in another language.)
- To the girl at Target: I’m sorry. That strange series of vocal sounds I made to you is called a “greeting.” In the days of yore, people would offer a greeting as a way of being friendly and acknowledging another person’s existence and importance. I meant no offense.
- I’m getting old. I made it only halfway through the new Clive Barker novel (“Mister B. Gone”). It’s about an ancient demon’s fun on earth. About the time he described bathing in infants’ blood and the happy way he filled his tub, I’d had enough. Slaughtered babies just aren’t as entertaining as they used to be, apparently.
- I passed a car wash yesterday. The sign said “Don’t Drive Dirty.” Well. As someone who has driven dirty a time or two, I would argue that point. Party poopers.
- Does anyone else do dumb stuff like this? I noted my dentist appointment on the calendar. I wrote down the time: 3 o’clock. After a second, I added “p.m.” Apparently, I’m afraid I might show up at the dentist at 3 o’clock in the morning.
That’s the end of this negotiation.
October 1, 2007
- Driving home with my children, one of my daughters asked where all the cars were going. I told her they were probably going home or to work. “Well, dad, if you see any bad drivers, don’t get mad and say ‘goddammit, do you want a piece of me.'” Now, I will admit to letting the blasphemy slip on occasion, but “do you wanna piece of me?” is not part of my vocabulary. I eventually figured out that she learned that phrase from the movies. Impressive that she could put that retort together on her own.
- A bumpersticker I saw: Who Would Jesus Bomb? I got a laugh out of that. An ironic musing, I’m sure, but it made me think. According to the book of Revelation, one of the trumpet judgments will release four angels bound at the river Euphrates who will kill “a third of mankind,” which would notch a body count of about 2 billion if done today. If He’s willing to loose genocidal angels, I’m guessing bombs wouldn’t keep Him up at night, so maybe it’s not so ironic after all. I love beer.
- Went to see “Short Cuts” at the local art house theater. There was an annoying woman down the aisle who wouldn’t stop talking, kept laughing at moments that weren’t funny and ate her popcorn very loudly. In the film, there’s a scene where a fisherman discovers a woman’s body in a river. Surprisingly, this elicited not a peep from the Noisy Bitch. Moments later, the fisherman was seen gutting a trout, and Noisy Bitch said “Eeww, I don’t want to see that.” To review: grossed out by gutted fish, not bothered by bloated, naked human corpse. Nice.
- Walking through Target yesterday, I spotted a cosmetic product known as lip-plumping gloss. The name? Sexy Motherpucker. It’s so subtle. I like it.
- Speaking of subtle, here’s a headline that made me chuckle: La Nina Threatens to Wreck World’s Weather. Again, subtle. I like that. No need to overstate it.
- Just sick and wrong.
- I’m trying to teach my daughters manners. For example, when they want some water to drink, instead of pointing at their glass and barking “arrgh!” Tim Allen-style, I tell them to say, “May I please have a glass of water?” They will usually replay with something like, “May I a glass water of please have?” They’re 3-years-old, and have never seen a Star Wars movie, so I don’t know where this Yoda impression is coming from.
Later I’ll you see maybe.
June 1, 2007
- We got a recorded message on our answering machine from a company urging us to extend our vehicle warranty so we could have the “peace of mind you deserve.” Well, that’s pretty presumptuous, isn’t it? How do they know I deserve peace of mind? Suppose I deserve all the mental anguish I get all the way to the grave? Hmmm?
- I saw a commercial for the TV show “Hell’s Kitchen.” A prick of a chef berates his contestants in ways that only the truly self-hating would tolerate. Is it just me, or is there an overabundance of asshole behavior on TV? When did this become entertainment? If I were rich, I’d offer one million dollars to the contestant who bludgeoned that lout into a two-month coma. Girls, if you ever put up with that kind of treatment, I will hang my head in shame of the failure I was as a father.
- It’s not my fault, Honey, I have sexsomnia.
- In a recent news story, I read that Mayor Ray Nagin gave a speech bellowing that New Orleans is coming back “whether you like it or not.” I wasn’t aware that there was a large constituency opposed to New Orleans’ recovery, but I do know that a certain mayor’s crybaby act is wearing thin.
- I’ve decided I don’t like air conditioning. I don’t like the artificial cold. You can never set it to a comfortable level. Give me a warm breeze any day.
- A pizza delivery dude brought me the goods last night, and before I was even done signing my name on the dotted line, he said, “You can add the tip if you want. Helps out with the gas.” I had company, so I didn’t have time to tell him that “reminding” me to tip is unacceptable, white-trash behavior, and that his gas expense is his fucking problem, not mine. Tipping, shit. Sorry, folks, I loathe the practice. I long for a day where I can get service without someone sticking their fucking palm out. Whew, now I feel better.
- My next screenplay is likely to be about vampires, so I have the enviable task of immersing myself in vampire fiction and folklore. During my research, I discovered that the term “nosferatu” is not Romanian for “vampire.” In fact, it is a meaningless word that does not exist in any language.
- Speaking of vampire fiction, I came across a book of vampire stories from the last 100 years. Eager to dive in, I turned to the first story, “The Story of Chugoro,” a translation of a Japanese vampire folktale. Irresistible, right? Well, I began to read and was confronted with this: A long time ago there lived, in the Koishikawa quarter of Yedo, a batamoto named Suzuki, whose yashiki was situated on the bank of the Yedogawa, not far from the bridge called Naka-no-hashi. And among the retainers of this Suzuki there was an ashigaru named Chugoro. Um, before you call something a translation, aren’t you supposed to actually translate it?
- My girls refer to “yesterday” as “last morning.” Not sure where they picked that up, but I think it has a nice, romantic ring.
See you all next morning.