Hi. I'd like to buy a gun. I'll only need one bullet.

Okay, so I posted some nonsense about recommitting to this blog and promptly fell off the face of the earth. In my defense:

Last week Kat's sister was visiting us and we were frantically scrambling to keep a 14-year-old entertained. It didn't take me long to realize this is impossible as nothing is impressive to a 14-year-old.

I got some sort-of-concerning health news that I won't go into here since I'm paranoid that someone actually reads this thing, but suffice to say I've been having a meltdown ever since and will continue to do so until I meet with a specialist on the 21st.

My car got broken into. Some junkie smashed my window and grabbed a GPS unit and digital camera. Thankfully, he/she was courteous enough to leave my cell phone headset. I don't know whether to be happy my CDs were left behind or pissed off at the judgment of my music taste.

Also, my improv team Party Trap performed at Three Clubs (you might remember it from that movie Swingers) and got booked on a regular rotation every Sunday night!

And as of now one of the guys in the group and I are fighting and he/I may or may not each quit the group over it.

Yay, emotional rollercoasters!



If you guessed, "Thai policeman wearing government-mandated smiley mask in order to seem friendlier," congrats! You're just as fucking weird as everyone in Thailand.

Those of you who guessed, "roving band of clown-themed rapist motorcycle gang member," take heart; you may have lost today's contest, but the fact that you recoil in fear at these sorts of things should mean you'll live a lot longer than anyone in Thailand.


Rihanna + Numa Numa = WTF?

I was driving around with Kat yesterday trying to find one goddamn place open at 10:45pm on New Year's Day to serve us anything resembling food (answer: Subway. Bonus: tranny hooker and meth head in line behind us!) when I heard what surely could not be possible coming out of my radio.

Rihanna, and some guy named TI who I'm sure is TOTALLY awesome despite my never hearing his name, put together a song using music from the fucking Numa Numa song.

You know, the "fat kid bouncing in his computer chair" Numa Numa song.

For real.

How bankrupt is the music world that it's now leeching off internet memes from a decade ago just to sell a couple more copies on iTunes? I can't wait for Chris Crocker to show up on the next Nickelback tune and the Chocolate Rain guy to guest on The Airborne Toxic Event's new album.

Of course, in what can only be called a stunningly disturbing lack of irony, that shit already sort of happened.

Manic Monday: Oh AirTran, you silly racist bastards.

By now you've probably heard about the Muslim family that was booted off a plane after the other passengers got antsy about...well, the fact that they were Muslim.

Which is a sad, sad commentary on the state in which we live today. I get it; the news shows you grainy photo after grainy photo of olive-skinned jihadists and pronounces them all EVIL EVIL EVIL!!!! So naturally that starts seeping into your brain and you get a little gun-shy when you see some in person. It's tough to avoid given the constant overriding stimulus of "Muslims = terrorists" you get every day.

The people on the plane need to exercise a little more critical thinking, though.

Passengers notified flight attendants of a "suspicious conversation" between Kashif Irfan and his wife. Now certainly no one can fault a concerned citizen for notifying an authority (or, at the very least, a flight attendant) when they hear ol' Mahmoud thanking Allah for a glorious day to die or analyzing how best to ram a Bic ballpoint pen through a pilot's temple. The fact that he was with his wife, sister, three children, brother, and sister-in-law could just be a clever ploy to divert attention. Don't put it past ol' Al Qaeda to send a few kids in to die in a fiery crash if it means scoring a hit on that symbol of all that is evil in America: Orlando, Florida.

Yeah. They were flying to Orlando. They were flying home to Orlando.

But their conversation, however innocent, must've had some trigger word in it to set off whichever paranoid soccer mom blew the whistle. Maybe Kashif is a struggling stand-up comedian and was talking about bombing his set. Maybe his wife was coming down from a wicked caffeine rush and mentioned she was crashing hard. Maybe Kashif's son was playing a new PSP game and talked about how the graphics are so realistic when his soldier terrorizes a plane full of civilians and rams it into the nearest skyscraper in a horrific and monstrous act of cruelty.

"The conversation, as we were walking through the plane trying to find our seats, was just about where the safest place in an airplane is," said Inayet Sahin, Kashif Irfan's wife.

For real? You people saw some Muslims, heard them talk about safety, and put two and two together to equal planes crashing into towers? Here's a hint, guy: the Muslim you need to watch out for is the one who doesn't give a shit about safety. The guy who asks if he can open his window, doesn't fasten his seat belt, and orders a double whiskey is the one who may or may not be plotting to convert your plane into several hundred much smaller pieces.


Happy Goddamn New Year

I don't understand the appeal of New Year parties. I mean, I'm all for getting blind drunk, but I can do that on any other Tuesday afternoon. I'm all for kissing someone at midnight, but I'm married now so I get to do that all the time, sometimes even with sex. It's just another day. But Happy New Year anyway.

I wish I was into resolutions, but I've spent a lifetime avoiding setting goals to circumvent the seemingly inevitable failure to achieve them. So I tend to shy away from that sort of thing, but let's start with updating this blog more often. And streamlining it. And making it, y'know, interesting.

One goal at a time, I guess. Look forward to me posting more often starting now!