Monday, January 31, 2011

Chairman Meow's Aphorism #2

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Friday, January 28, 2011

Shit My Cat Types

(psst. See what I did there? I aped the name from a marginally funny twitter account-gone-shit-tv-show for my post)

In an ongoing attempt to entertain my reader (hi Jeska), I'm starting a regular feature called "Chairman Meow's Aphorisms". A quick background.

I work from home. I have 2 cats, Frank and Chairman Meow. Every day while I'm working, Chairman Meow will jump onto my shoulder, hop onto my work desk and proceed to either walk all over or sleep on my keyboard. The result leads to some interesting adages left by the good Chairman.

So without further ado, today's entry:

"SWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWDEV"

Thursday, January 27, 2011

I Need To Be Less Of A Dirtbag

I trimmed about an inch of hair off my beard last night. I really need to be less of a dirtbag. This working from home deal I have going has really given me a lax opinion on hygiene, at least in the beard and coiffure department. I haven't really cut my hair any length in probably 6 months. Although I will say, if I could grow a respectable mustache (and not look like some sort perpetrator of molestation) I'd rock the Chester A. Arthur look full time. This should come as no surprise to most, as I also want to purchase a top hat to wear on a daily basis. All in all, if I could dress like Bill the Butcher every day I would. But I really should groom myself a little more often, I'm looking a bit wily.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Food for Thought

Do you think Jets fans would wear Jerseys with Urethra on the back?
I know I would. I wish I could still get a Ron Mexico jersey.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Just Another Metaphor For My Life


Had tickets to see John Valby last night. Got dressed and bundled up since it was about 10°. I opened the door and as soon as the cold hit me, the overwhelming urge to micturate came upon me. I run to the bathroom and rip my gloves off to the the magic happen. Mid-micturation, I realize I'm pissing all over the end of my scarf. I give it a quick soak in water, dry it with a blow dryer and head out. I perseverance through difficult situations...like pissing on my scarf.


Saturday, January 15, 2011

Foods I Hate but Tolerate

Pardon the douche-chillingly awful title, I'm irritable.

There are just some foods that I cannot stand. I'm a bit (see: a big) of a foodie (see: fatso) and will always try sometime once. Having a very multicultural family, I've come across some foods that I have ingested and have not enjoyed.

  • Shrimp with shells still on - They're highly delicious, but I really don't want to do the work of pulling legs, head and shells off to enjoy. Plus, depooping my food isn't really high on my to-do list.
  • Tomatillos - Heard some indie rock chick on WVKR talk about tomatillos for 15 minutes. She had a nasally timbre, filling dead air with umms and uhhs. She droned incessantly, so I remember punching the radio off. I've never had one, but I know I don't want one because nasally hipsters eat them. Fuck you.
  • Sea cucumber - Scrape the side of a spam can. See the gelatinous goodness? Refrigerate it. Serve with a sprinkling of sand on top. There you have sea cucumber. Plus you can't trust any creature that shoots sticky filaments from its anus as a defense mechanism. It's Memorial Day at Fire Island all over again. No thanks.
  • Mussels/clams/oysters - Snot of the sea in a handy carrying case. Then there's the chance of immediately rocketing yoohoo (thanks Otto) out of your rectum for the next 48 hours.
  • Organs - I grew up eating beef liver and onions and fried chicken gizzards. What in Sam Hell were my parents thinking?! To this day, if a plate of fried chicken gizzards hits the kitchen table, my brothers and father assault it. For those not in the know, the gizzard is the organ that stupid chickens use to grind up their food. How, you ask? You ever see chickens incessantly pecking at the dirt? They're eating rocks that then get stored in the gizzard and are used to grind up their food. Chickens are too stupid to properly digest their own food, so they have to eat rocks and flex their stomach until its a fine powder. Stupid birds. Anyways, gizzards are chewy and awful. Want to know what a liver tastes like? Punch yourself in the mouth. Hard. Let your teeth shards and blood congeal into a gelatinous mass. Bon Appetit!