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Here is but a sampling of the strange accidents and injuries that I've had:

I was eating a Jalapeno Popper that I had just taken out of the oven. I didn't let them cool down, thus they were still scalding hot. I eagerly took a bite into one of them, causing it to burst with the cheese-lava spattering onto my chin. I yelped in pain as my chin started sizzling. You could smell the sweet combination of cream cheese, Jalapeno, and flesh. There was a red burn mark on my chin for a couple of weeks.

While riding my bike up a hill, I was distracted daydreaming about something, more than likely involving juggling monkeys. Obviously not paying attention at all, I rode my bike right into a car. A parked car. A parked car with people inside of it. A parked car facing my direction with the people in it looking right at me and seeing the whole thing. Seeing me end up upside down on my bike. Usually I can play things off pretty well, but there really wasn't much I could say in that particular situation. I did the only thing I could think of, which was to get up, not say anything pretending like nothing just happened and ride off.

When I was a tiny little Jew, I was warming myself after coming home from skiing. Getting a tad bit too close to the fireplace, I ended up getting a nice chunky grill mark burnt right onto my little behind.

When I was delivering a pizza, I knocked over a stop sign while being distracted by a bikini girl. In my defense, the stop sign was in the middle of the road, not on the side of it, so I never actually left the road. But, on the other hand, it's not like the sign was invisible...

With bills out of control, I got an advance from work to try and catch up a little bit. I went straight to the horse track and lost all the money. On the way home I totaled my car.

As a teenager I used to get bloody noses really easily. When I was in 6th grade, we were about to take a test that I really wanted to avoid. I punched myself in the nose and told the teacher that I was about to get a bloody nose and that I should go to the nurse. She didn't believe me so I bled on the floor. She then sent me to the nurse. Go me!

I was walking around the corner at work and fell. This was when I was larger, so the fall was reminiscent of the giant Imperial Walkers in Return of the Jedi, falling to the ground after getting caught in a trap set by one of those pesky Ewoks. It was the most awkward fall ever in the long illustrious history of falls. It happened in slow motion and if my memory serves me right I think there was even a music score. The whole time I was falling I was praying that nobody was watching. I saw my life flash in front of my eyes. As I hit the ground with an earth rattling thump, I quickly looked up. OH NO! Jane was sitting a mere 5 feet from the scene of the accident. She didn't even look up. Amazing. How could she have possibly missed it? Was she was deaf. Had I been working with a lip reader all this time without knowing it? I didn't think so, but now I wasn't so sure. I wiped my brow in relief. No one had seen me. As I picked myself up, I saw the one thing I had hoped to avoid. Down the hall, Paul was staring right at me with the biggest Cheshire Cat grin you'd ever want to punch off someones smug face. I knew from that moment on that I'd never hear the end of this story. I haven't. But he was once repeatedly bitten by a large rat, so I can always bring that up.

On a special day, not too long ago, a woman gave birth in Wal-Mart. What a heartwarming way to be welcomed into this wondrous world of ours. I can only begin to imagine all the spellbinding and historic things this magical baby has in front of him. Oh…to witness such a precious gift being given to the world. The only thing better would be if the baby also happened to be delivered on Christmas. What a perfect place to deliver a baby. You have discounted knives in the sporting goods department, which would be perfect to cut the umbilical cord. You have giant colorful moo-moos in the ladies department, which could double as a perfectly fitted hospital gown. You have the plastic white trash Budweiser kiddie pools in case you want an underwater birth. The kitchen department has readily available cutting boards and tiny shrimp gutting knives for the circumcision and the owner of the store may or may not be present which would provide the Jew to conduct the ceremony. The professional photographer could be paged to the delivery to get some close-up shots of the baby's deformed head with bulging eyeballs as his first sight in this world is the big President's Day sale display of Paris Hilton's bestselling novel entitled "No really, i AM smartur than Anna Nicole". The post-surgical meal would be a scrumptious combination of Spam sandwiches, not-so-kosher hot dogs, expired tuna mixed with white ice cream, and a big mug filled with Sam's Soda. The dyslexic returns department could write out the most authentic Percocet prescriptions. You have dozens of half-retarded spectators to cheer on the half-retarded delivery team. It could be the pilot episode of A&E's new hit reality show "The Down Syndrome Doctors", which will be airing every Monday at 10 following the story of an up-and-coming bowling alley being run by Jeff Gillooly and John Bobbitt called "Betcha Bobbillooly". And to top it all off, you have an illegal immigrant getting paid $2.37 an hour, just salivating at the opportunity to clear isle 5 of all birthing fluids.

All this while having the distinct pleasure of getting to listen to the Wal-Mart exclusive Larry the Cable Guy Christmas album entitled, "Get-R-Done, Baby Jesus!"

The whole delivery would cost less than $17. What more could you ask for? I'm going to have all my babies delivered at Wal-Mart.

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The millions of people that have been requesting PorkChopHead T-Shirts, and the millions of people who waiting 3 days and nights in the rain and snow just to let the world know that they demanded PorkChopHead stickers, and the 1 girl who wants to wear PorkChopHead panties can finally breath easy again. PorkChopHead products are finally he

Woman does 'mouth-to-beak' to save chicken

ARKADELPHIA, Ark. (AP)

Thank goodness, I was getting tired of doing posts about people from Kentucky. And I would have given anything to have been a fly on the wall during the town counsel meeting where they decided that if Philadelphia and Arkansas had a little bastard baby, it would be called Arkadelphia, and that would be the name of their 12 family trailer park.

--Sometimes a chicken does have lips, just not her own. Marian Morris saved her brother's exotic chicken, Boo Boo, by administering "mouth-to-beak" resuscitation on the fowl after it was found floating face down in the family's pond.

What kind of name for an exotic chicken is Boo Boo. Boo Boo sounds like a retarded cow, or a retarded ghost. An exotic chicken should be named something exotic like Bubbles, or Shaniqua. It also helped that a family pond in Arkansas consists of a plastic children's Dukes of Hazard wading pool or a spit-can.

Morris, a retired nurse, said she hadn't had any practice with CPR in years, but that she was interested to see if she "still had it."

Does that mean she wanted to see if she could still make a dead chicken come to life with a wiggle of her jiggly country ass and a little tongue action from her hot Vaseline coated lips?

"I breathed into its beak, and its dad-gum eyes popped open," Morris said. "I breathed into its beak again, and its eyes popped open again. "I said, 'I think this chicken's alive now. Keep it warm.'"

I actually won my 5th grade spelling bee with the word dad-gum. Some other words I correctly spelled on my path to glory were dog-nabbit, jumpin-jahoosephats, hooooooeeeey, and Listerine.

Morris said she was pleased to find that the bird she saved was an "exotic," and not just an ordinary chicken.

Ordinary chickens aren't as "grateful", and don't go out of their way to "return the favor". Exotic chickens on the other hand give some of the best lap dances you'd ever want to get from poultry.

HOMESTEAD, FL (NBC) -- South Floridians have claimed to see holy images in things like grilled cheese or a pancake. On Thursday, a Homestead, Florida man said he saw Jesus in an X-ray he had taken of himself at a doctor's office.

That has to be the least delicious Jesus image in history.

"I feel a little nervous," Reynaldo Farinas said.

I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that he was looking at the results of his chest X-ray.

After experiencing chest pains, Farinas went to Homestead Hospital. While he was there, physicians ordered an X-ray of his chest. Some say what that X-ray revealed could be a message from a higher power.

Maybe the message was to eat less bacon.

"Last night I checked and see the face of Jesus Christ there," Farinas said.

I saw the same thing on my X-ray, except they referred to it as my large intestine. On an interesting side note, the X-ray of my liver looks like Steve Guttenberg. If you add my spleen and sphincter, which respectively look like Tom Selleck and Ted Danson, you'd have a hilarious version of Three Men and a Baby Jesus.

The Farinas' along with his physician and a medical technician said the image on the X-ray resembles Jesus Christ.

Who was his doctor, Doctor Doolitle?

The doctor said he could not explain the silhouette.

The patient said he could not explain the bill he received in the mail a week later.

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Indian Man Marries Dog to Ward Off Curse

P. Selvakumar, 33, said he had been suffering since he stoned two dogs to death and hung their bodies from a tree 15 years ago. To atone for this, he married a female dog in a traditional Hindu ceremony Sunday.

I don't know which is worse, being stoned and hung to death or having to marry a man who likes to marry and butcher canines. At least it was a female dog, because marrying a male dog would just be perverse.

According to Selvakumar, after that incident, his "legs and hands got paralyzed and I lost hearing in one ear."

Did he stone them to death with a hand grenade? I hope he doesn't think he has the right to yell at his new bride "Listen Bitch!…stop barking in my bad ear!"

An astrologer had told him the wedding was the only way he could end the curse. To this end, his family picked out (an arranged marriage!) Selvi, a former stray.

I wonder if that's the same astrologer who told me not to worry about getting a college degree and to pursue a career in comedy.

Apparently such marriages are not uncommon in India, in cases of warding off "bad omens" or "evil spells" --- and the participants are free to marry again and do not need to divorce.

Is the dog allowed to remarry? What kind of support is given to the traumatized animals forced to get married idiot humans against their will. And the guy probably smells too, which is extra torture what with dogs having a highly developed sense of smell. They spend years being good doggy-wives, slaving over the kibble bowl and playing with their husbands bone and then they get kicked to the curb without so much as a thank you come again. It's not right. Not right at all.

I hope he ended up with an arranged marriage to the angry and bitter puppy born to a giant St. Bernard and one of Michael Vick's yet to be euthanized pitbulls. His new wife could bite an ear off whenever he tried to go near his hot chocolate.

Someone said to me today that there is nothing worse than a Summer cold. I politely beg to differ. The top 2 things on my list of things that are worse than a Summer cold are, not in any particular order, mouth syphilis, and people who say really f@cking stupid things.

2

I accidentally dropped my Chapstick in the toilet and didn't want it to go to waste so I pulled it out of the toilet, dried it off with my blowdryer, and gave it to homeless person. How perfect in that I've given someone the cure for chapped lips and in all likelihood, the fresh urine scent will be a vast improvement over the aged urine scent that homeless lips usually smell like. Go me!

3

A radio commercial used the phrase – a crack or dent in my windshield –

I mistakenly thought they said - a crack whore dented my windshield –

Is that like the most hilarious mix up you've ever heard of in your whole life or what!? The people who made the commercial should really consider changing it because when I heard about what the crack whore had done, I was truly interested to see what would happen next. For a brief moment I was enthralled. If it turns out that the next thing that happens after your windshield gets walloped by a bitter crack whore who is upset that you didn't pay her the agreed upon 8 dollars is that Papi Glass fixes your windshield, that might not be bad advertising. If during the next day I have some homeless guy put a hole in my windshield with his chapstick, I would probably think to myself call Papi Glass, look at how they fixed that windshield busted up by that crack whore.

There was a big lightning storm yesterday and Wal-Mart went on lockdown mode, not allowing anyone to leave, and someone I know was one of the unlucky people stuck inside. I'd seriously rather get trapped inside a 10-foot wide hairy yeasty hippie-vagina than be stuck inside of Wal-Mart. To your left you'd have greeters trying to start conversations with you, and to your right you'd have some 15 year-old trailer park princess who didn't know she was pregnant pop out 6 or 7 babies right on the floor. You would have no choice but to speak to the 106 year-old half-retarded hunchback or you'd end up slipping and falling face first into a puddle of newborn baby fluids. At least they sell guns if the lockdown goes on for more than 3 or 4 minutes and you just want to end it all.

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