Friday: Say What You Want, Them Ladies Can Drink

So maybe it hasn't been the most inspired week of blog postage around these parts.  You got a sex post last week, though, so I mean that's something right?

House Keeping: You may or may not have notices a subtle change to the site.  There's now a link at the top of the page that says "About."  Basically, blogger lets you add "pages" now to your site, which are like posts except (a) they are always right there, and (b) wiseasses like Chris Othic can't comment about them.  I figured I'd try it out.  I've been thinking (and don't tell blogger about this) of switching blogging platforms to something more controllable and customizable, but I'm also inherently lazy about such things as "set up" and "programming code" and the like, so we'll try this too.

Blah blah blah.

Shut up, Bold type, and do your job.

Ladies Night: What kind of a world do we live in where a ladies hockey team can't celebrate a Gold medal with bubbly, Molson beer and cigars?

A stupid world.  That's where.

What's the point of playing hockey if you can't celebrate a win by classing it up on the ice?  That's what the Canadian Women's Hockey Team did after their victory last night over the US, and now the IOC wants to be all like "Hey, isn't that player 18?"

Whatever, IOC.  Just because you like to be in bed by 8 and won't drink alcohol unless there's ginger ale in it doesn't mean the rest of us can't have a good time.  Even the chick who's one year under age.  BITCH, WE WON A GOLD MEDAL, EH?!

Speaking of World News:  Libyan leader and life of the party Muammar Gaddafi declared Jihad on you, Switzerland!

"Any Muslim in any part of the world who works with Switzerland is an apostate, is against Mohammad, God and the Koran....  The masses of Muslims must go to all airports in the Islamic world and prevent any Swiss plane landing, to all harbors and prevent any Swiss ships docking, inspect all shops and markets to stop any Swiss goods being sold."

-Muammar "Slightly Irritated" Gaddafi

I don't know how wise it would be to try and stop the MIGHTY SWISS NAVY from docking.

I'm vaguely recalling something about Switzerland from an old Geography class I took back when I was in grade school.  What was that about mountains?  Hmmm.  Let's get the atlas out.  Hold on for a second.  I think it's under that pile of old pizza boxes.

Digging.

Digging.

Ah!  Here it is!

No Swiss ships allowed?  Mission accomplished!

A Raging Case of the Hornies

Imagine my surprise when I turned to the front page of today’s interweb to find that Tiger Woods is in trouble!

Scandal, right?!

I know, I just blew your whole world apart by dropping this juicy little piece of gossip on you. I never would have suspected either, even after months and months of vaguely hearing his name around but not really paying attention to the specifics or to whatever has been going on around me. Speaking of which, anyone know when the Hindenburg is supposed to land stateside? I fancy a scenic ride on a dirigible. I hear those Germans make excellent dirigibles.

Anyway, apparently Mr. Woods is a sex addict. Not only that, but it’s ruining that traditional time-honored monogamous baby-making sacrament of marriage.

Add one more to the “list of diseases I’d like to have.” And yes, I have a list called “Diseases I’d Like to Have.” That’s probably a disease now too, right?

This begs the question, “How do I, Nat Topping, know if I’m a sex addict?” I like sex. As a concept, I think it’s very attractive.

I’m pretty sure I’m not a sex addict, though. I’m getting exhausted just thinking about all of this.
But how do you, my attractive and well sexed readership, know if enough is enough? The CNN-dot-com has an article that provides a list, along with the woeful story of a man who “suffers” from this addiction. “Oh, you poor man. I feel really bad for you. We, the rest of manhood, are not at all jealous of you and completely sympathize with your plight. Please tell us your secret so that we can, er, avoid doing whatever mind-control magic you’ve been pulling all your life.”

Suffice it to say, I read CNN’s list, and I found that list to be completely inadequate. So I’ve created my own for you.

No, I’m no a licensed sex therapist. If you are looking for licensed anything then you’re at the wrong blog, buddy.

1. Have you had sex before? This is a prerequisite, like how you can’t be a rocket scientist without taking introductory rocket class.
2. Have you had sex multiple times? Also a prerequisite.
3. Is your penis currently inside of something right now?
4. Would you rather have sexual intercourse than eat a delicious warm corned beef sandwich on rye bread?
5. Do you have plans tonight?
6. Would you be willing to blow off those plans to watch your kid play violin in her first orchestra recital to have sex with me?
7. Multiple times?
8. Even once you start chaffing?
9. Are you Tiger Woods?

If you answered yes to any, all or only one of these questions, then you may or may not possibly be a sex addict. If you answered no to any of them, then you are a virgin and deserve ridicule.

Happy humping, friends!

But not too much humping.

Vampire Child Will Drink Blood, Celebrate With Amazing Feats of Strength

Yeah, long title. Deal.

So yes it's been a couple of days. I've been feeling uninspired lately. Then I saw this:


and now I just feel like a lazy bastard.

This is a kid from Romania (home of the Vampire) who has two mentions in the Guinness Book of World Records, one of which is for air push-ups, which I didn't know existed.

Man, I have trouble motivating myself to get out of bed in the morning. This little lemur-child is performing acrobatic miracles.

It should be noted, though, this still won't motivate me to sign up for the gym. Some things just can't be changed, my little Romanian friend.

HT: Pat

Friday Fun: Babies with Laser Eyes

The destruction of high culture is upon us, and it's more glorious than I ever could have imagined! You've seen LOLCats; you've seen FailBlog; now feast your eyes on Babies with Laser Eyes!




Is that adorably dangerous or what?

Old Italian Chefs Say The Darnedest Things: This is similar to when your grandparents slip into 'casual racist' mode in front of your new girlfriend, except in this instance 'casual racist' mode is 'promoting the skinning and eating of a common pet' and 'your girlfriend' is 'a viewing audience of millions.'


Chef Beppe Bigazzi shares his recipe for Cat Stew, much to the shock and horror of his cat loving co-host. Take a look at the video and tell me that you've never made that face.


YeeEeeEeeEee...


That is the face of being stuck in an awkward situation.


Italians already don't give a damn what they say, you think an elderly Italian is going censor himself? He even acknowledges the station is about to get some angry calls from "nature lovers." L'Uomo just don't give a damn.


Speaking of Horrifically Bad Food Choices: try the McGangbang next time you're at McDonald's. It's a McChicken sandwich (the whole sandwich, including the bun) tucked neatly between the patties of a double cheeseburger. I'd try it myself, except that I gave up "attempting to kill myself with grease" for Lent.


This May Be Fascinating to Only Me: but there is a group of people out there who still believe - in all seriousness - that the Earth is flat. No, I am not joking. They have a website, the Flat Earth Society, which includes a chat forum where you can debate with them about whether or not the Earth is actually flat. They can prove it! With Science!

Percy Sideburns, The Cougarstick

I got a new guitar. That is to say, my girlfriend gave me as a gift an acoustic guitar so that I don't have to play the crappy off-brand electric guitar I've been playing for forever.

I've named him Percy Sideburns, AKA The Cougarstick. I figure all I need now is a back story about his magical powers and how he came to be. Any suggestions would be welcome.

Sumi Quatchi Miga

Want to host the Olympics? Maybe not such a good idea after all.

I mean, yeah, on the one hand it can showcase your host city to the rest of the world. On the other hand, it can also highlight the fact that you're not able to keep ice cold. IN CANADA.

Yikes.

I haven't been watching too much Olympics; I catch just the occasional evening highlights and inexplicable special interest pieces on polar bears that have absolutely nothing to do with gaming.

Apparently, if I had been watching, I would have been made aware of a litany of mishaps, which include one tragic death even before the opening ceremonies, a malfunctioning pillar during those ceremonies, malfunctioning ice surfacing equipment, rain, melting snow, poor logistical planning at the down hill skiing facilities which have caused the cancellation of 2,000 tickets (all detailed in this article from the Seattle Times), and now the injury of nineteen people when a barricade collapsed during a free concert.

This in half a week.

I really feel bad for the people injured by the barricade. Not only for the injury, but for the fact that it happened during the Alexisonfire set who, apparently, suck. You don't have to take my word for it, but I recommend that you do.

The question becomes why? Why are these games seemingly doomed to constant gaffs, mishaps, and tragedy?

Some blame the VANOC (the organizing committee), some blame poor luck with the weather, or just general freak accident.

I have a pet theory. Meet the Vancouver Olympic mascots:

These are Sumi, Quatchi and Miga. When strung together in the indigenous tongue, their names mean "These Lands Are Cursed." If you want someone to blame, blame these adorable little corporate creations. Especially the one on the end there with the cowlick and the moustache. Adorably sinister.

Mystery solved.

Booze Yourself in the Moment

Drink, God damn you! Drink like there's no tomorrow!

That's right, three people who read this blog, this is your Clever Title yearly reminder to go make an ass out of yourself BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!

"Oh, I forgot all about it," you say, "and now I have plans to do laundry and housework."

TO HELL WITH THAT, I say! Wake up, asshole! Laundry and housework can wait! Goddamn it, don't you realize it's the only Tuesday out of the whole year that doesn't suck?! Tomorrow we get ashes on our heads and then we can't eat chocolate until Easter! That's months away! DON'T YOU REALIZE HOW DIRE THIS SITUATION IS?!

Come! Follow me! Out into the streets with us! We must drink bourbon straight up! We must follow that up with a plate of red meat dipped in sugar and fried in lard! We must vomit in public! We must flash our breasts at the world! Our hairy, tiny pink nippled man breasts! We must eat doughnuts and collect beads at all cost!

Get the beads!! Here is a picture:

You. NEED. These!

Go! Quick! Before there are no beads left! Do you think there's an infinite supply of beads?! I don't care if they'll just end up being thrown out in a week, or if they end up at the back of a closet, neglected and collecting dust. GET BEADS! DO WHATEVER IT TAKES!

We must do all of this two days into the work week! Because tomorrow there can be no fun until Easter!

NO FUN!

Drink, you bastards! Drink and be merry while you still can!

A Douche's Monologue Concerning Valentine's Day

Also posted at the Robo-blog.

“I don’t get women.

“It’s not like I took her to the White Castle for the romantic candlelit tableside slider dinner. Which, I’m pretty sure, would have tasted better and taken less time than whatever the hell we gnawed on at that fancy French-Asian fusion restaurant she wanted. I hate fusion restaurants. She knows this. I told her many times, ‘I don’t get why they don’t just pick a side and deal with it.’ She never listens to me. Fuckers wanted me to wear a jacket, too, which pissed me off. And I had to make reservations too which, one, I hate pretentious places that make you call in and commit to eating at their place and, two, I hate talking to people on the phone.

“Snooty pricks.

“I mean Christ, what is her deal? I got her flowers. I got her chocolates. That crap is expensive. She knows this, too: I told her, I said “Look at all this crap. Do you know how much that crap costs? That’s how much I love you.’

“If I had my way, I would’a just gone to Walgreens, picked up one of them roses they have at the front there and a box of Swedish Fish and called it a day, but no. I went the extra mile because goddamned if she’d be happy with one of them roses and a box of Swedish Fish, even though I’m pretty sure that’s her favorite candy – and even if they’re not her favorite they’re still pretty good, I mean I’ll eat them if she’s not.

“But no, I went the extra mile and look what that got me.

“I told her, ‘Flowers and candy was fifty bucks. I could’a spent ten at Walgreens. That’s forty bucks I’d have right now. Do you know how many DVDs that is?’

“I buy her all this crap, I take her to a restaurant I know I hate before I even go there, and then I took her to see that movie – the one about Valentine’s Day, what’s it called? I just saw it, what the hell was the name? – anyway, that was okay. That’s two hours where we could both just shut up and eat some popcorn, which by the way is overpriced, and I told her that too.

“What a fucked up, ridiculous corporate-made holiday. It’s all made up horseshit that the greeting card companies somehow got women to go along with so that they can sell more crap, but everyone goes along with it in the name of ‘love,’ which is disgusting, I mean, playing on people’s sympathies like that. To hell with that. And she knows I think this because I told her that last night too, but I said, ‘Despite all that, I’m still buying you this crap, so what does that say about me, right?’

“And then, how do you think she repays my efforts? With some speech about me missing the point and how it’s not about how much crap I bought and how she would have been happy with the White Castle and the Walgreens and sitting at home if the intention was right, at which point I chimed in with a well placed ‘Bullshit,’ because, come on, who does she think she’s kidding? And now she’s pissed off, which means I gotta sit on long awkward phone calls for the next couple of nights saying ‘I’m sorry’ for something I’m not sure I did.

“Whatever.

“All that work and not so much as a quick h.j. for the effort. What the hell’s the point? I don’t get it.”

Friday: Olympics, Valentine's Day and Teabagging

I was going to start this post with something to the effect of "It's that time again," but then got a strange deja vu feeling and decided to avoid that at all cost. I feel like I must have started a bunch of posts that way. Deja blog. So, we'll just jump right into the Friday funfest.

HEY! The Olympics are back! It seems like every two years, we have another reminder that the international community hates Chicago. Not that we could feasibly hold the Winter Olympics here - although they could probably set up the slalom on that landfill out by O'Hare, but still. We Chicagoans love out chips on our shoulders, and the Olympics are no different.

Somehow this year's Olympics crept up on me. Opening ceremonies are tonight already. I probably won't watch - I'm desperately looking for something else to do with my night - but for those of you who will watch, prepare for a very polite opening ceremony.

"Come on, Nat. Don't you want to watch us charge down hill in tight fitting space suits?

I found this little bit interesting: apparently there will be some protests at the ceremonies from Canadians who, among other things, will voice their irritation over the cost of holding the games. Expect such time honored Canadian protest traditions as the unified throat clearing and that famous chant "Pardon Us, We Would Like to Voice Our Grievances if This is a Convenient Time for You," sung in both English and French!

Also On The Docket This Weekend: Valentines Day which, unlike the Olympics, is sadly unavoidable for most of us. But attention must be paid, love birds! This year, I will have to draw the line at seeing this little move about Valentines Day, aptly titled Valentine's Day. This film is the recipient of a 16% crappy movie rating courtesy of Rotten Tomatoes as of noon today.

"But... but... but it's got Ashton Kutcher! I've never seen Ashton Kutcher in a movie I didn't like!"

Do you know why that is, Self?

"Why?"

Because you don't watch Ashton Kutcher movies. No, not even Dude Where's My Car. I won't let you.

"Oh yeah. Thank you for that."

You're welcome, Self.

Snowing in Rome: Who cares? I do. Because when I get tired of the persistently crappy Februaries around these parts I often like to take little imagination trips to Rome to remind myself what it's like to live in a place that doesn't have five foot tall snow banks between the sidewalk and the street. Alas, another bubble popped.

The Bastardizing Powers of Tom Tancredo: This is a bit old, but I'll mention it anyway just because I find the whole Tea Party thing to be an interesting phenomenon. Simply for watching the "party's" slide from a legitimate outburst of ideological indignation over the banking bailouts to, well, this.

"People who could not even spell the word 'vote', or say it in English, put a committed socialist ideologue in the White House. His name is Barack Hussein Obama"

Another nugget courtesy of the CNN, "The former congressman known for his strong opposition to illegal immigration also attacked "'the cult of multiculturalism, aided by leftists, liberals all over who don't have the same idea about America as we do.'"

Thanks, Tom Tancredo. Your opinions are valued here and not at all ignored on the basis that what you just said is ridiculously stupid. And congratulations, Tea Party, on your choice for opening speaker for your very first political convention. May you have many, many years of people taking you seriously. What are you guys about again? Taxes? Neat-o.

Ugh.

Snowmanteau and Other Made Up Words

Snowmanteaus are all the rage, baby!

What's a "snowmanteau" you ask? It's a combination of the words 'snow' and 'portmanteau.'

What's a "portmanteau" you ask? It's a word that means combining two words into one as a means of showing what a clever jackass you are.

Thus, a snowmanteau is a combination of snow and another word, particularly when used to demonstrate the severity of a snow storm.

Recent examples of snowmanteaus from the news:

ABC News: "Snow Storm or 'Snowpocalypse?' D.C. Abuzz as Weather Hits"
AP: "Obama calls capital's blizzard 'Snowmageddon'"

Get it? It's like the end of the world, but with snow! Ah! Yes! How droll!

Since snowmanteaus appear to be all the rage, I have asked the Clever Title Research and Development Team* to invent some additional snowmanteaus, in the hopes of getting ahead of the clever jackass curve.

BEHOLD THE FRUITS OF OUR LABOR:

1. Snowtastrophe!
2. Snowhilation!
3. Snowaclysm!
4. Snowstrom!
5. Snowarchy!
6. Snowmoil!
7. Snowbulence!
8. Snowoxysm!
9. Snowsplosion!
10. Snowruption!
11. Snowsteria!
12. Snowsterics!
13. Snowzzard! (That would be 'Snow' and 'Blizzard,' which wins the redundancy award for redundancy)
14. Pandesnowium!

I would like to donate the above to the general use of society, for the betterment of human kind of course.

Go forth, my friends, and Be Clever!

*In this case the "Clever Title Research and Development Team" consists of me, my underwear, a thesaurus, and a pint of Edy's ice cream.

Who Brings a Sword to a Basketball Game?

Upon the lot of parking, before the Trojan Court of Basketball.

Gentleman the First:
"I daresay, sirrah, you did strike my wrist as I went for to lay the ball into the goal hoop. That constitutes a foul and I demand satisfaction!"

Gentleman the Second:
"My dear sir, this is a mere game of pick up amongst friends. If you are incapable of letting this go, then I bite my thumb at you, sir!"

Gentleman the First:
"Do you indeed?! Have at you!"

Gentleman the First presently draws his sword.

Gentleman the Second:
"My God! Art thou touched, man? T'is Troy, Michigan in 2010! Whyfor carry you a sword?"

Gentleman the First:
"So that I might swifty dispatch with those who dare wrong me as I make basket!"

Gentleman the Second:
"Someone, swiftly, alert the authorities anon!"

Gentleman the First:
"En guard, you knave!"

Split Pea Soup and Super Bowl Ads

Hiya friends!

Why don't y'all grab yourselves a nice bowl of Split Pea Soup and head on over to the Robo-blog for a nice little recap of the Super Bowl ads?

It's still warm!

Trololo Guy Says:

Friday: Lazy, Lazy Bears

Man, life must be hard when you live in perpetually freezing climes. Somebody get that bear a Miller Light!

Random City Sight

Little piece of random for you:

Yesterday, as I was walking around downtown on my was to the DCA for my show, I followed a pair of cross-country hitch hiker types. You know; the guys that wear beat up coats and camo and carry backpacks full of all their earthly possessions.

These two guys were carrying, respectively, a guitar case and an unstrung bow - like, bow and arrow bow, except no string and no arrows as near as I could tell.

It kind of makes you wonder where the hell they were going in a city like Chicago, and what their plans were with a guitar case and an unstrung bow.

Sex Robot Learns to Express Disappointment, Resignation

File this under “Things That Are Creepy.” We may not have flying cars or a cure for all illnesses yet, but by God we have our sex robots! Isn’t that right Douglas Hines?

Oh, sorry Douglas. I didn’t know you were with a transvestite. I’ll come back.

Wait, that’s the sex robot?!

Yeeeeeeeeeeee…

Well, Roxxxy is a version 1.0 so hopefully they get around to removing the Adam’s apple. But, hey! She does everything else! From any natural position you can imagine, to snoring. Which, snoring? Come on, that’s a little too real for me. Talk about killing your confidence. If you can’t keep the inanimate object awake, what good are you?

Probably not much good to begin with, if we’re talking sex robots, but hey.

My favorite bit from the article: “Hines, a self-professed happily married man from Lincoln Park, New Jersey, says he spent more than three years developing the robot after trying to find a marketable application for his artificial-intelligence technology.”

Sure, Hines. We believe you. Really, we do.

Seriously, read the article. There are too many creep-tastic gems to list here. And then, when nobody is looking, sneak off to TrueCompanion.com and join the 4,000 pre-orders.

February: Worst Month Ever

Click here for lists about why February sucks. Happy February, everyone!