I Make A Great Ex-Boyfriend

Most guys want to be good boyfriends….and by 'good boyfriends' I mean we want to find a girl that doesn't completely hate us. Unfortunately Mother Nature's a feminist and has sarcastically left men ill-equipped in terms of the most basic – nay - necessary skills required when building and maintaining a long-term, meaningful relationship with a ho and/or Russian bride. It's not always easy duping some chick into being your girlfriend, and it only gets harder as she gets to know you.  Keeping her around is virtually impossible and eventually she'll realize you don't actually think Jane Austin novels are "SOoooO amazing on so many levels".

Below is a sampling of the credentials which provide insight to my understanding of a man/woman relationship process. You may notice I have some subtle refining to do…

1977 – Current
My mother is a woman and I've known her all my life.  My father is a man and I've known him all my life. The aforementioned persons have been married all my life.

1988 – Years Aged: 9
I was fond of in young gal named Melissa in my 3^rd grade class. To express my affection towards this sweet girl, I would often punch her during recess. Sometimes I'd knock her down in games of full contact soccer just to let her know I was thinking about her. As they say – love hurts, Melissa would have known all the bruises meant I really cared for her a lot. Last I heard Melissa became a lesbian. She must have felt that if she couldn't be with me, she didn't want to be with any man.

1991 – Years Aged: 13
In 7^th grade, at the start of the 5 minute break between 3^rd and 4^th hour classes, I started 'going out' with a girl whose locker was 3 down from mine. Sadly, we were forced to break it off by the end of the 5 minute break. While our love was true, the time wasn't right. My youthful heart wasn't emotionally prepared to handle the pressures of love. I was devastated all through 4^th hour Science class, but somehow I kept going, one day at a time. I'll never forget you, girl from locker 734.

1995 – Years Aged: 17
This was my first long term relationship and lasted nearly 3 months. It was a big deal because on July 13^th at 2:32pm (EST) she held my right hand in her left hand. Obviously things had gotten super serious and I hoped to convey the depth of my feelings by gifting to her a small token, ideally one which captured my fondness and affection. While on a family vacation in California, after searching everywhere for the perfect present, I finally found it – and it was only $6.95. I knew she'd understand it's the thought that counts.

When I got back to Michigan, I couldn't have imagined her emotionless reaction to my unique souvenir.

She peered into the bag.

"What is it?" she asked.

Filled with excitement, I replied "It's a shrunken head carved from a coconut, with eyes and lips hand painted on!"

I could tell she was overwhelmed with emotion because she didn't know what to say. In fact, she was so moved; she barely spoke to me at all for the rest of the day. Perhaps she wasn't ready for this big step, perhaps she couldn't return the love by which a carved coconut symbolized, either way; she broke up with me 4 days later.

After dumping yours truly, she was unable to look the shrunken head in its crudely fashioned, beady, red, loving eyes. I expect my gift was a constant, monkey-looking reminder of everything we had shared. One can only assume that's why she had kept it in the original bag and stored it away in her closet since the day I had given it to her. Since she clearly didn't know what romance was, I petitioned for the return of the shrunken coconut head, which she surprisingly handed over without hesitation.

1998 – Current
I've since had 2 more serious young-lady-friends, but at risk of making this story too long, I will summarize both relationships by pointing out I'm currently single. However, I believe my present bachelor status is due to me being too good of a boyfriend. You see, I'm such a great guy that both of these exes obviously felt they couldn't live up to the person they thought I deserved to be with. They must have succumbed to the great pressures involved in knowing they were keeping other women from experiencing the joys of having me in their lives; joys such as my relaxing snoring, never ending bad-jokes, karaoke superstar, X-Box extraordinaire, an innate ability to embarrass them in public, and let us not overlook my occasional natural gas leak.

How (Not) to Get a Date

Some people (me) are born attractive; others (not-me) come from a gene pool contaminated by radioactive waste.

Everyone wants to be the object of one's desire, but this is not always easy to achieve, unless you're a taco, money, or Italian. For those of us that aren't tacos, sometimes alcohol can assist with the desire-ing process, but sometimes you may spend $300 buying drinks for some girl and all her friends and then when they're leaving you ask for her phone number and she says "Oh, I don't think my boyfriend wouldn't approve of that".

A good way to gauge how do-able you are is by analyzing how you attempt to attract a male suitor/female humanoid.

If your only chance of meeting someone is at club Braille, where the drink menu is in raised dots and all the people carry white canes, odds are you have a great personality.

Here's a hint - it's a four letter word. And it's not 'Sexy'...

Maybe you've resorted to ringing wrong phone numbers and trying to get the person to go on a date with you. This rarely works, and may even end with a nice Policeman at your doorstep. But look on the bright side; you already have their phone number! I'm sure if you keep calling back they'll eventually say "Yes". Persistence is the key…

And guys, just to cover this one off – the girls at Hooters don't really think you're hot. They aren't impressed by your big muscles, and no, they aren't just playing hard to get. Unfortunately gentlemen, you've been deceived.  I know this is true because they can't possibly like you when they've already committed to liking me.

So how do you meet someone?

Guys – become a pool-boy.

God Hates Vacuum Cleaners

I know there is a superior being high above me and it's my hair. What created my hair is something man will ponder for centuries. What we do know is it probably wasn't God, because no God would create such beauty along with stuff that sucks. (My hair brings balance to the force)

Seagulls
Rats of the sea. Rats of the air. Rats that swoop in and steal my god damn French fries when I'm sitting at a picnic table by the ocean. They're ugly, they're annoying, and they're gull call is like listing to the torturous songs from American Idol: Guantanamo Bay Edition. (Now in its 5^th season!)

I will one day devise a weapon to destroy seagulls….something more powerful than a 10kiloton Alka-Seltzer.

DAMN YOU DIRTY GULLS! DAMN YOU ALL TO THE HELL THAT YOUR EXISTANCE PROVES MUST NOT EXIST!!

Science
If there was a God he would not allow scientists to invent and discover. By refusing to smite these heathens, God has allowed science to destroy the world - and more importantly - destroy my hourglass figure (damn you Dr. Betty Crocker). Brains were not invented by science; they were provided by God so that we could use them in a limited capacity, unless finding new and creative ways to worship him and do his bidding. (God wants you to bring me chocolate – stat!)

Just call me 'White Chocolate'

Anderson Varejao's Hair

Dyson Vacuums
I have a Dyson vacuum cleaner and it is so good it makes me want to vacuum….at least that was the sales pitch justifying why I need a $650 dust-buster. Mr. Dyson proved there was no God by discovering the vacuum cleaner that doesn't lose suction.

Let me explain…

As we all know, a 'vacuum' is a space which does not contain air – and is effectively void of everything. Since God is everywhere and not nowhere, the Catholic Church said a vacuum wasn't possible. When a vacuum was proven possible, the Catholic Church announced it was still devoid of the Lords presence – thereby housing all that is evil. So, that means Satan must love dirt because he gets a mouth full once a year during my annual cleaning extravaganza. Maybe that explains why Satan setup his HQ underground!! (It's so brilliant, it almost makes sense)

In summary, Dyson proved there is no God, and Satan proved cleaning is evil.

Damn….wish I thought of that argument when my Mom made me clean…

Operation: Kill the Poor People

Yesteryear (plus 364 days), on April 25^th 2008 A.D., I was informed America is destroying the world, hates Muslims and likes bombing poor people.

I would not let this injustice go without rebuttal. Now, a day later, I am rebutting (in blog form) like I have never rebutted before. In my defense, I needed a full 24 hours to let my boiling blood cool down. (I blame global warming). I mean come on! America is destroying the world? America hates Muslims? America likes bombing poor people?

Not true!

America doesn't 'like' bombing poor people. (No, I'm not going to say we love it) It's a necessary evil that must be done. We have to do it. You have to break a few eggs to make an omelet. Only this time the omelet symbolizes Oil, and the eggs shells represent human lives, global economies & Pro-American support...and the omelet has taken 7 years to make and is bankrupting the cook….

Apart from that, it's eggactly the same. (My jokes are a shell of their former selves)

Oh…and the omelet is not mixing because the egg white, the yolk, and the milk can't get along…

And there are little parts of the egg shell still in the omelet and it's trying to kill you.

And, and, and….

Anyway, poor people get bombed for a variety of reasons. Here are a few that come to mind:

Operation Motivation
Everyone always says they want to end world poverty, but only the US Govt is actually doing something about it.

First of all we need to understand why being poor is bad. Poor people have no money, meaning they aren't funding the advancement of Military technology. This pisses the US Government off.

So the plan is to have all the poor people want to be rich. Since poor people have no motivation, which is why they're poor, they need a fire lit under their butts. And if you have a lot of poor people, you trade that Zippo in for a bunker busting ballistic missiles with incendiary warheads.

By bombing the poor people, it will increase their desire to not be poor, and instead be rich. Rich people don't get bombed, and sets the example for poor people. Now that poor people know what they have to do to not get bombed, all they need to do is get rich! (I recommend pyramid schemes)

Thanks to the USA, there will one day be no poor people left to bomb motivate.

It's not German efficiency, but then again, it's only part of the Final Solution to the 'Poor Question'.

Operation Irony
This is where the USA spends billions to kill thousands who have nothing. Bombs are expensive, meaning the US wouldn't drop them all 'willy-nilly'. The obvious question is why have bombs if you aren't going to use them? It's like buying a car you don't plan on driving. Plus, the whole argument is based on lies – just like the myth that guns kill people. No, guns don't kill people, bullets do. Same here, bombs don't kill people, not unless it lands directly on a person's head like an ACME anvil in a Bugs bunny cartoon.  Even then, the worst injury would be a sizable red bump on their noggin. They'd be fine…

The focus should be on the real killers: fire, shrapnel, flying debris, and collapsing buildings.

Operation Structural Tolerance
If it wasn't for Al-Qaida, we may never have known the Trade Center Towers were not 747-proof. Obviously any collapsed building must have been structurally unstable to begin with. I, for one, have always believed buildings should be asteroid & Godzilla proof. Yet they laughed when my design submission had a Force-Field that protected the White House from Space Pirates….I digress…

By bombing poor people we're actually providing a valuable service for only the cost of their homes & sometimes lives. If we didn't drop 500lb bombs on their roofs, how else would we expose an inherent weakness in homes unable to endure an occasional aerial bombardment? If we had not bomb-tested the houses now, the former residents may never have known how dangerous it was to live in a stone and mud structure that has stood for hundreds of years. Now that the local populous has been alerted to their homes/employers/streets structural vulnerability to bombing/missile attacks/naval shelling, they can build a new structure in its place….which of course may require a random bomb-testing at some stage.

America helped identify unsafe homes and even reduced them to rubble, at no cost to the resident! Now that's killing 2 birds with 1 stone (or several families with 1 bomb). 

Feminists: I Support You Like the Bra You Never Had

Moments ago I started thinking. It was an exciting and new experience; like sky-diving in my head.

The catalyst for my outburst of cerebral activity: feminists.

Now I have no beef, no guff, and only a mild case of aversion to these boisterous members of society. Surprisingly, most feminists claim to actually be female (sometimes it’s hard to tell). Other feminists include desperate men pretending to care so they can pick up rugged chicks (Who gets to be the ’man’ in the relationship?).

I was pondering the silliness exhibited when the words man/men appear in larger word such as ’Human’ and if spoken out-loud, the nearest feminist will inevitably interrupt with a "Or Hu-Woman", in the world’s bitchiest tone of voice. This is so juvenile, so incessantly dumb. It’s an exercise in futility, like exercise.

Fortunately for non-mans, we men are super smart. By casting my man-eyes across the words Woman/Women, I noticed Wo-man/Wo-men are merely extensions of man/men. Without a masculine noun to leap-frog, non-mans would just be ’Wo’….and that doesn’t mean anything. It’s not a Chinese name. It’s not slang for anything in any language. Even saying "There is no Wo in team" is a sad attempt at being funny (like my blogs). The only use is to sing that 60’s song Please Mr. Postman where it goes "Mr. Po-wo-wo-st man"

Which a feminist would interprete as "Miss Po-wo-wo-st Wo"

But do not fret, Wo’s of this world. For I have a way to fix this whole thing up. I will bestow upon thee a new title of your choice…no more of this WoMAN/WoMEN stigma that holds you down and fails to illustrate your accomplishments and contributions to modern society. You can now be known as:

1. Radioactive Psychopathic Descendant of Apes

2. Super T-Rex

3. Talking Thing With Boobs

4. Wo (singular)/Woo (plural)

5. Carbon Based Life Form Capable of Producing Carbon-Copies

I feel that’s a fairly diverse and comprehensive list. I was going to add one for PMS, but the best thing I could come up with was ’Progressive Monkey Spunk’.

Choose wisely ladies….the future is now!!

Oooops, you missed it.

Australian-American-Australian

If you're as much like me as I think I am, then we'll already know I enjoy the simple things in life, i.e. brownies. But there is more to life than brownies, I also enjoy sunshine. I gain pleasure from guzzling Hidden Valley Ranch dressing by the gallon. I like it when people laugh till they snort. I swim in a secret massive vault filled with rare precious jewels and baby seal pelts, whilst wearing a modestly patriotic American Flag Speedo.

This flag is never at half-mast.

I can name roughly fifty-ish of the states in this here (that there) fine union. By the way, I count Canada as 1, Texas as 2 and the Hawaiian Islands as a baker's dozen. I know 'George' was the name of at least 3 US Presidents.  I'm told only one of them fathered something that wasn't a mistake. I know the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth Rock and that Plymouth Rock landed on Malcolm X. Maybe if he had been stoned he wouldn't have been so angry. We single handedly won two World Wars. And I don't know about you, but I'm yet to receive one Thank-You letter for my generous assistance some 30 years before I was even born.

(You're welcome world.)

No, I'm not bitter. I SAID I'M NOT BITTER….yeah, well, it would have been nice if you didn't have to be forced to say 'Thanks' every single time….it's like you don't even get it….uhhhh hate to break it to you, but it was America vs. Germany, Russia and Japan …umm yea it was….ever heard of a little movie called 'Pearl Harbor'? It was about the first 9/11 ever….. Oh right, I'm stupid?….Yeah, yah ,I'm sure… I'm rude, whatever dude.  Well, whoever said American's don't have manners clearly didn't meet you…... Fine, fine, FINE! I don't even care. I don't want to talk about it….. Just change the subject, ok?

P.S. You're Welcome.

Americans are the inventors of everything worth inventing. We invented cars, electricity, computers, BOSE speakers, real football, Chuck E. Cheese, and television. America is the most powerful, most wealthy & most oxygen free nation in the world. We know right from wrong, good from bad, and evil from Knievel.

I like to imagine heaven is a cross between Los Angeles and Las Vegas. I just hope getting into heaven is as easy as getting into the USA. The land of God is just a hop (over the Pearly Gate), skip (St. Peter's Interview), and jump (for joy! Ole! ).

But I now live in Australia. Meaning a weekend road-trip to Graceland is out of the question. I don't get to watch the 2008 episodes of any US TV shows until 2053. It's not that bad though, we just got a new show called 'Leave it to Beaver'. Oh golly-gee, that Theodore Cleaver is a real hoot! Another splendid program named 'Mr. Ed' has a talking horse. Jeepers, the special effects are really really good. I bet they got George Lucas to do it or something…..

Australia seems to be far away from everything, except for poisonous/dangerous creatures of every size and shape. I'm only a scant $2000 and 23 hours of travel from my family in Michigan. But with the 16 hour time difference it only feels like 38 hours and 59 minutes!!

As an Australian-American, or an American-Australian….actually, I think I'm an Australian-American-Australian……what? I can't do that? Well, I just did! (I'm so tough on the internet) I try to represent Americans the best way I know how. I stand tall, speak loudly and pronounce my R's like a motor with no gasoline…..Go on, make the sound, you know you want to!( RRrraaarrr-rrraarrr-raaaarrr). Everyone can see I'm American, and if they can't see, then they can hear. And if they can't see or hear, then I just keep yelling louder until they've understood. My voice carries with it a message everyone must receive, a message that tastes like pizza & beer. I can often be found patiently explaining to complete strangers the numerous reasons why America is better than their own – or any other - country. More often than not, they question my backing data or call me an idiot. In either case, I explain my complex experiment I performed when last in the U.S. of A. My highly biased study conclusively shows that according to the Americans I asked, America is the best country on Earth.

I know. Case & point right? Alas, not all peoples are as learned as we be.

Anticipating the possibility that the narrow minded individual is not yet convinced, I then pose the following conundrum "Are you aware the U.S.A. has the 3^rd largest population on Earth, following only China and India?"

Should the person's barbaric ways have kept them in the dark about how awesome the USA is, I'll quickly teach them to read and write to ensure they understand my uncontested supporting documentation:

Then I unleash my Coup de grace.

But before I offer them a bowl of Frog soup, I point out that very few American's move outside of America, because why would they?

And here comes the 1, 2 punch. Unless of course my analogy is played out by a one armed boxer, then it would be more like: …1…..1…..

Coincidently, there are more than a few folks from around the world - including China & India - trying to immigrate to the USA. If the US were to just open its borders, who knows what the population of the USA would explode to! So while we have the Bronze medal in the Population Olympics, it's just because we're good sports about it and know we have nothing to prove.

Plus, we win all the Medals in the only Olympic events that actually count. And the way to tell which sports matter is by seeing which ones America takes Gold in. Any sport where the US doesn't receive a Gold Medal is obviously because that sport doesn't matter; otherwise we would have won those too.  But who's counting (medals) anyway? Not me. (USA:102 in 2004)

Back to my re-education for non-Americans: If there is still any doubt about how fantastic America is, even after I have set light to the torch of hope & reason and used it to burn down the anti-American sentiment they falsely believe, if somehow the person should maintain a sliver of an opinion which differs from my own, if even after I explain that we have more bombs and I may have suggested we'd nuke their country and "then they'll see who's better", if after all of this they still don't agree with these truths I hold self-evident, that not all countries are created equal, than I dare them to read and comprehend this little tid-bit from one super-Top Secret document leaked to me by an anonymous source I shall only refer to as a Mr. CIA ('s website).

"Buoyed by victories in World Wars I and II and the end of the Cold War in 1991, the US remains the world's most powerful nation state. The economy is marked by steady growth, low unemployment and inflation, and rapid advances in technology."

I understand what Mr. CIA is trying to say, he's obviously just shy about stating the obvious. Ok, games aside, we all know that Mr. CIA is actually just an acronym. But let me ask you this; who, prêt ell, could possibly know more about America and Americans than the Correct Ideals of Americans? That's what C.I.A. stands for, right? It's probably on their little website somewhere, but it doesn't really matter.

And did you know that CIA people speak to each other using only their 'quiet voices'. My 1^st teacher probably should have taught me this 'quiet voice' skill. I must have been absent that day. Back to what the CIA is trying to say, via my interpretation.  Imagine if you will that the CIA is like God. They have published their cryptic words and messages and it's for me to decipher.

Fortunately this New-New Testament was last updated on February 28^th 2008, so it shouldn't be too difficult for me to translate from the original form, in week old English, into modern day spoken English.

Clearly the word 'powerful' is meant to represent something that is great. These words (Powerful/Great) are synonyms, thereby interchangeable. Thus, the updated sentence reads: "…..the US remains the world's most great nation state."

I'm not sure how English sounded a week ago, but 'most great' is not real good English by my ultra snooty standards. However, I am no wordologist and will take guidance from the source that any sound argument should be based upon: famous speeches, or quotes from people that make more money than me. Let's ask Mr. Cassius Clay how he would convey the message that he was the 'most great' to a fellow sportsman.

"Hey Floyd!..I seen you!...Someday I'm gonna whup you! Don't you forget, I am the greatest"

And that settles that. According to Muhammad Ali, the correctest way of saying 'Most Great' is 'Greatest'. Alternatively, you can type 'Most Great' into MS Word and you'll notice it suggests 'Greatest' as the more gooder word. While I knew this MS Word thingie to begin with, it would have eliminated my lengthy Ali bit.

So, according to the combined sources in the CIA, Microsoft, Cassius "Muhammad Ali" Clay & brought to you by the number 1, the undisputed final sentence is:  "…..the US remains the world's greatest nation state."

Look out mate, you may think I'm just one American overseas, but I have the biggest & best country behind me.

Now kiss my foot you heathens!!!  

My girlfriend told me I was officially an Old Person because only old people send letters to TV channels when a show they like is taken off the air.

I explained she was wrong, which we're still not seeing eye-to-eye on.

Anyway, a list of terms to help with the email.

The Comedy Channel = Australia's version of Comedy Central
Foxtel = Cable TV
Foxtel IQ = Tivo

And here is the email I sent......hopefully I'll get a reply today.

Subject: My plea surrounding The Colbert Report & The Daily Show with Jon Stewart?

Dear employee and/or representative of the Comedy Channel.
 
First of all I will not attempt to be funny in a pathetic attempt to gain approval of my funny-ness. I know I'm funny because my mom told me so. Also my girlfriend often laughs at me, and sometimes with me.
 
Anyway I just ordered Foxtel & Foxtel IQ in my new place for the single reason of watching The Colbert Report and The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. These two shows give my life purpose. Yes, I have a simple and near meaningless existence. To my horror it seems these two outstanding shows are not scheduled to be aired in the foreseeable future. Fortunately the foreseeable future - according to Foxtel & your website - is only 7 days. This leaves me with hope that someone somewhere has decided to test other shows in those slots to see if it increases/decreased viewer following.
 
What blows this theory out of the water is these shows were - up until recently - each aired 3 times a day, which in my opinion was not nearly often enough as is/was. To my extreme displeasure, it appears these shows are now currently aired approximately 0 times per 24 hours. I freely admit I am no mathologist, but according to my calculator watch, this is a whopping 100% reduction in the funniest & most clever programming currently available outside of 'The 700 Club'. While I can not comment on the apparent heir apparent 'Full Frontal' airing at 9:30pm AEST, its review description reads 'Full Frontal takes over where Fast Forward left off.' Firstly I've never heard of Fast Forward, which gives me little hope for it's recent reincarnation. Secondly if this Fast Forward was so funny why was it taken off the air to begin with?
 
Check mate.
 
Actually I don't really care. Nothing can equate, nor should try to replace The Colbert Report &/or The Daily Show as long as Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart are alive....and even if they're dead, their shows should be repeated until I'm dead.
 
The only logical reason I can come up with is you've hidden cameras in my house knowing I would panic & possibly (definitely) cry upon discovering the light at the end of every crappy day has been extinguished by those whom obviously believe Knock-Knock jokes are cutting edge. You would then air a show called 'The Daily Colbert Report' and program my Foxtel IQ box to record it. When I saw the show I would predictably jump for glee, I'd run --- nay --- skip into my living room and plop down on my heart-shaped bean-bag for 60 minutes of heaven, only to have my dreams dashed by a 1 hour block of my crying like Nancy Kerrigan. This would in turn prompt me to cry for 24 hours straight, providing a full season of 'The Ian 'Sissy' Shower Hour Show' as your New! Exclusive to The Comedy Channel program.
 
As you can tell I am losing control on reality. The thing that pickles my caboose is that a channel whom claims to be interested in Comedy, has pulled a prank which is by far the least funny thing that's happened since my mother informed me I was part French.
 
While I fully appreciate the fact I am coming across as a total dink and whoever reads this will either:
 
a) Delete my email and claim it was never received. After all I was sarcastic and after a long day of similar emails, you've had enough. *DELETE*
b) Delete my email and not give a damn either way. You probably didn't even make it this far so who cares what I have to say.
c) Kindly respond and explain that you & The Comedy Channel sympathise with my addict-like withdrawals, however programming changes have forced the aforementioned programs to be removed from your schedule. This sucks. Don't do this. It will bweak my widdle heart.
d) Tell me it's all just a crazy &/or bad dream and that you were toying with my delicate emotions. The Colbert Report & The Daily Show will be back in the line-up before I know it. I will buy you a box of chocolates and maybe a Ferrari. Even if you're lying, please please choose this one.
e) Send this email to everyone at the office, followed by A, B, C, or D.
 
I set out to write a short and sweet email, which turned into something resembling the exact opposite. Please don't make a grown man cry. Please tell me it will all be ok.
 
Thank you very much - especially if you took the time to read this propaganda.
 
Have a great day.
Ian Sinclair

Love is Evol (Backwards)

Love.

Ahh yes, the 4 letter word that is often used to describe ones feelings towards nouns of every conceivable variety.

When a man is asked what he loves, the answer will inevitably include:

A) Favorite sports team
B) Favorite food
C) Second favorite food
D) Dog or pet
E) Dog or pet while growing up
F) Lunchtime
G) Recess when I was a kid
H) Video game
I) Oh yeah – my wife/girlfriend and/or offspring

A woman's list is arguably as silly, but whose target of affection is unquestionably more centralized:

A) Favorite flowers for me
B) Favorite perfume I wear
C) Shoes I bought
D) Sappy love movie(s) - (Including Titanic) I saw
E) Presents for me
F) (Guy person) snuggling me
G) Nail polish I just bought
H) Jeans that make my butt look good
I) Oh yeah, that man-thing that buys me stuff

What troubles me the most....errr....the most troubling thing is the majority of women can speak at great length about the different colors of nail polish they own, yet fail to name 10 countries located outside of North America.

And that's why the dinosaurs went extinct.

Now if you're wondering what that last line had to do with this fanciful entry, the answer is nothing. See, I know that every woman reading this just stopped to list 10 countries so they can post a comment telling me how I'm dumb and how they're so smart. But while they were trying to decide if Africa is considered a country, they probably lost their place in this blog. So when they started scanning for a new line they didn't recognize, they'd read 'And that's why the dinosaurs went extinct'  and believe they'd gone too far into the infinite greatness that is my blog. The reader would have to start reading from the very beginning again. When they got to the 10 country naming bit they'd stop to re-confirm they knew 10, which of course leads to this never-ending vicious cycle repeating once more. This is essentially the same as writing "Entertain an idiot for 1 hour (flip over to find out how)" on both sides of a piece of paper and handing it to George W. Bush.

In conclusion:

A) Detroit Pistons
B) Tacos
C) Chocolate ice-cream
D) Man's best friend: my hair
E) Our Golden Retriever Simba (long before the Lion King came out...our dog was a trend-setter)
F) Lunchtime
G) Recess when I was a kid
H) Halo 3
I) My co-fiancé

Wait Less Weight Loss

Yes, I know. This blog's title is as catchy as the Hakuna-Matata tune from the Lion King. I impressed myself with it too.

Any-who, I opened the good ol Yahoo.com to see a story called Diets to avoid. Well, I didn't open Yahoo to see the story...I noticed the story after I opened Yahoo. Got it? During my ample free time, I often spend entire minutes browsing through this type of non-sense (or writing it). Usually Yahoo stories are a good laugh and written by people less intelligent than a US President. Today this was not the case, granted the bar was not raised very high (The childrens do learn – G.W. Bush).

This lady seemed to hit the nail on the head about diets, plus she looked kinda like Cindy Crawford and that makes her much more credible when it comes to knowing stuff. It's well documented that attractive people are experts on how the body works and what is required to keep it running like Forrest Gump. Alas, this lass has forgotten a few diets off her list though.

Oreo Pudding Diet: You may not have heard of Oreo Pudding...basically it's Oreos dipped in chocolate pudding, which you then proceed to eat. Through extensive personal research I've found this diet is unlikely to produce noticeable weight loss results.

Ab-Machines: Holy shit in a twister! This pisses me off. I honestly cannot believe anyone thinks they can buy an ab-machine off the TV, use it for 5 minutes a day, 3 times a week, and get a body that rivals the Greek Gods. This should really be renamed the "Sucker-Diet" and if I thought about it earlier that's what I would have called it. Suuure I can go back and edit this using modern technology – aka the delete key, but that takes all the fun out of being random. Not that this is very random...random is what my mom does. I'll be in middle of jabbering away "Mom can you loan me $20?" My Mother answers "Oh, that reminds me, I need to top up my windshield washer fluid" To most people this is not a logical connection. To my darling Mother though, it is.

Baby-Eaters: This diet is rarely tried and even more rarely successful. It's the carnivore's version of veganism; of which followers are equally despised. Not only is the candidate required to be a successful cannibal, they go one step further and maintain a high standard of personal restraint, selecting only choice meats and nibbling the finest, most succulent of infant snacks. The fall down of this program is thrice-fold: first off it's difficult to secure a readily available supply of kiddy-tenders. Secondly the practitioner will likely find themselves in jail which makes it highly difficult to keep up this routine. Finally you cannot speak openly about your diet to family, friends, etc; else you'll find yourself back in point 2.

The End

Not Knocked Up

Hello my fellow citizens, Mexicans, and those of you named Mark. It's been a while but I have some exciting news – I'm not pregnant. See, the other day I was watching a show where the lady missed her period and thought she might be knocked up. Well! This had me worried. I just turned 30 and I realized not once in my life have I had my period. I was almost certainly pregnant! After a quick visit to the doctor's office where I explained my predicament, I was informed it was highly unlikely I'd be expecting brats. Apparently to get pregnant, one must do the sex. Well, that was all I needed to hear. I'll never be pregnant in this lifetime!

A Moment Called Life

A short time ago a loud popping sound accompanied a distant pain in my brain muscles.

I was thinking!

Yes, that's Wright brothers and sisters. On September 22^nd, 2007 at 8:11am I achieved unassisted free thinking for 12 seconds and produced approximately 6.8 ideas.

But this was dangerous work. Sure, at first it's just innocent thinking, but two or three weeks from now I'll get some crazy ideas bouncing around in my head and will inevitably turn into a Communist. And I know Commies are bad. I don't even have to try thinking about that one. I know it just as instinctively as any decent red-blooded American does....I mean blue-blooded...BLUE!!!!

Communism – the ignorant theory that everyone is equal. It's the timeless struggle of the protagonist proletariats against the very ridiculous sounding bourgeoisie. The rich vs. the poor. The chicken vs. the egg.  Does anybody win if everybody loses? Where are my car keys? Who will scramble my eggs & who will make my bed?

These riddles tear at my soul. They pull down my spiritual pants and relentlessly call me 'Martha'.

And I wonder. I wah-wah-wah-wah-wonder. Why was I thinking? And what was it I think I thinked about that started this avalanche of nonsense? Like a politician on trial, I don't recall. But I assure you good people; it was a moment of greatness for all Ian-kind....maybe.

So did I really even have a think? We may never know and you may never care. Maybe the idea of 'thinking' was just a joyful wish...like an imaginary friend that doesn't tell my other imaginary friends I'm a loser. A kind of fiction based on fact based on fiction. But it all happened so long ago now that it feels like a dream. I've often spent days reliving those fleeting, historic moments which took place 20 minutes ago. If I should only live for one day, those 20 minutes would equate to 6 years of my life. And in dog years that like 42 years.

Wow...42 years. I can scarcely believe half a century has passed already. I'm an old man now, but once I had a vision. It probably had rainbows, tacos, lazy-boys and NFL games every 30 minutes. I once dreamt of utopia. It was as real to me as chocolate flavored cheddar cheese or a woman who thinks logically.

Day 1 in New Zealand

In late July 2004 I got a phone call from a man with a strange accent. He introduced himself and told me he was interested in having me move to New Zealand for a job. Without a second thought, and without seeking counsel from friends or family, I verbally accepted the position right then and there.

The word impulsive comes to mind.

1.      It's made up of two small islands just off the east coast of Australia.
2.      Lord of the Rings was filmed there.
3.      There are more sheep than people.
4.      They have Australian-like accents.
5.      I would be living in a city called Auckland.
6.      I had a job.

After 3 flights, 2 layovers, and 25 hours of traveling; I arrived in Auckland, New Zealand. As I cleared customs with my two suitcases I realized I hadn't even asked if they had arranged for a hotel room to be booked. All the comforts of home, all the safety nets and all the security measures weren't there. I had nobody to rely on, no one to ask for help, nobody to bail me out...and I had only been there for 30 minutes.

I did have the phone number of my new manager but my cell phone didn't work here. I had no New Zealand money; I had never had to exchange money before. I was 27 years, 8 days old and I was just learning how to walk.

With a handful of strange coins, I moved through the airport towards a set of pay phones. I'm American – we invented phones. This would be easy.

I tried to dial out but the number I entered was not valid.

I tried again and again and again but this phone was too complex for me. I read the instructions. I tried different phones. I sat down by my luggage in frustration and watched person after person successfully use the exact same phones which I couldn't figure out.

I didn't know what to do. I had been awake for nearly 72 hours and was far too tired to think.  I leaned forward, crossed my arms over my suitcase, I put my head down and I slept.