From an angry white male

I’m a little upset.  Outraged may be the appropriate description of my current state.  While watching the Stillers and tv, I have seen a commercial aired about drunk driving.  Now, this isn’t the first time that I have seen this commercial, but it is the first time that it pissed me off.

You’ve seen this commercial.  It’s the one where the police have checkpoints set up and the one guys car is filled with beer, one with martinis and another with red wine.  The slogan is “Over the Limit.  Under Arrest.”  Today was the first time that I actually paid attention to the aforementioned propaganda.  ALL OF THE DRIVERS ARE WHITE MALES!!!!!!!  This is completely fudged up!  Women can drink and drive?  Minorities can’t and don’t drive drunk??  You have got to be kidding me.  If this isn’t the man trying to keep white males down, then I don’t know what is.  I wonder what the actual statistics are on drunk drivers.  Maybe white males do have a higher frequency of DUI, but you have to throw out Uncle Peebag in such calculations because he totally skews the whole thing.  And another thing, I’ll bet that a lot more women get pulled over for drunk driving, but get out of it because they are dirty sluts and give the officer a little sumpin sumpin, if you know what I’m sayin.

Hola Amigos

Hola amigos!  It’s been a while since I rapped at ya.  So much has occurred in the past week, it’s hard to find a starting place.

Christmas was it’s usual.  The Yeti got a lot of clothing (shirts, ties and pants) to continue his journey into the working world.  How lame is that?  It’s not the fact that I got the shirts and ties that I’m upset about.  It’s the realization that I have a steady job.  I’m a working stiff, literally.

Soooooooo, round about Wednesday of this past week, 3 friends met in H-don to reassure ourselves that we could still hang.  First stop:  The Spillway.  The Spillway is the stuff of legends.  Hell, the scientist may have even lost his virginity there, to Dr. Snail nonetheless.    I had brought along some firewood per the Scientist’s request.  Of course, the sign at the entrance to the pavilion said “No Fires”.  Dr. Snail made a good point in saying that in all the times that we had been out to the Spillway, if fires were allowed, we would have made one already.  Good point.  The two scientists had envisioned doing a little fishing, but Dr. Snail forgot his pole and the Scientist elected not to fish.  It was pretty damn cold there…another thing we seemed to have forgotten…the way the wind whips in through that area.  So after a few beers and few dozen of Dr. Snail’s cookies, we headed into town

Dane “By God” Fischer was willing and gracious enough to allow us boarding in his house (Thanks also go to Kris, Brad and Eric).  After unloading our shit, we decided to make a trip to Boxers, which was closed.  Kill you Boxers!!!  Eventually, we ended up at Main Street Café in Alexandria (road trip Jan. 6 to see Steve Summerhill?).  What luck!!!  It was wing night.  You know, my mother often tells me that I could fall in a bucket of shit and still coming out smelling like roses.  At times like these, I believe her.  She also tells me that when I was birthed, I was completely blue.  Apparently there was no room in the womb for me.  That’s okay, I was getting tired of that scene anyhow.

But….back to my ranting.  We went back to Dane’s and enjoyed a few barley pops while trying to figure out why these guys only have basic cable.  We finally settled on King of the Hill only to find that the back-to-back episodes were centered around Peggy Hill, our most hated character.  There’s nothing worse than a woman that thinks she knows something.

We then decided to head down to Memories (formally J’s).  Dr. Snail and I had not been there, but the Scientist had made a visit during Pig Roast last year.  I’ll say, it was a definite improvement over J’s.  Hell, anything is.  It took us the better part of 1 ½ to 2 hours to drink two pitchers of beer while we were there.  This is unacceptable.  There was a time in our lives when we would have had 5 or more pitchers gone in the same time span.  I blame Dr. Snail.  We did run into “Peyton Manning” while at the bar.  That put a damper on the evening, with the exception of the laughs we got from talking to him….stories about the Krause.  And that’s pretty much the end of it.  Nothing all that exciting, but a good way to waste a day.

There was talk about giving Dane and the other guys an upper deck, but the damage that one Dr. Snail shit did to the toilet was punishment enough.

Chocolate martini recipe

This recipe is for Julia's sister (Christine, not Katie, even though she would probably like one):

Equal parts vanilla vodka, Irish cream, creme de cacao, and milk. Shake over ice, and serve in a martini glass (der1).

If that's too sweet for you, add some unflavored vodka. It'll dull down the sugaryness and kick up the alcoholyness all in one fell swoop. And lets face it people, you gotta swoop.

Many variations of this recipe exist. Play around with it and see what you like. I hear Godiva chocolate liquor is pretty good all up in there, but I'm too poor to buy that stuff.

Thanks to the "phone bar" for the recipe.

Sorry for the long hiatus

Merry Christmas blog fanatics. I hope Santa turned a blind eye to your naughtiness and showered you with magnificent gifts and prizes despite reading the filth that we post here. Old Saint Nick gave me a butt-load of cool stuff, but I'll write about that later.

In the mean time, I'd like to ask a question to everyone out there. Facebook gives you a list of upcoming birthdays, so why didn't it tell me that Jesus's birthday was coming up on the 25th?

I think it's generally accepted that there was a historical Jesus. I'm not talking about the son of God or whatever (if you're an atheist like me), but a dude that lived 2000 years ago and partied in Jerusalem. Sure, we don't really know that he was born on December 25th, but let's go with convention. What's the deal Facebook?

I was driving the other day and saw a Wendy's sign that said "Happy Birthday Jesus." Let's assume they were talking about the Christian Messiah and not one of their Latino workers. Isn't it weird that Wendy's loves Jesus more than Facebook?

Do you think Facebook is run by a bunch of terrorists or something? Oh my god...they have all of my information... Is that how they fund their suicide bombers and shit, the ad revenue from Facebook? I think I'm going to be sick.

Kill you, kill you Facebook terrorists! Kill you dead! I'm going to thrown down jihad-style on your ass. You can't even do the same to me because I'm a white guy, and we don't have asses. Haha, take that! Take that right in your terrorist Facebook taint and rotate.

my little burger queen

so, as usualy, i waited until almost the last minute to do my christmas shopping. now, you may think that this affects my gift buying, in that i buy shitty gifts. well, you're wrong. much like my paper writing skills, my gift buying skills are enhanced to an almost super-sayan level when i wait till the last minute. ka-may-ha-may-ha bitches!!

but this is not the point of my blog. for lunch, marty (the yeti's father) and i (the yeti) stopped at burger king for lunch. as you may be well aware, burger king is in the midst of a campaign to make the biggest burgers and sandwiches. in a day an age when mcdonalds is striving to be healthier, burger king is throwing caution to the wind and banking on the fact that we, as americans, don't give a damn about our health and want a big fucking meaty burger. now, that being said, that burger king is up-sizing, i would like to say that they had a midget working the cash register. a midget!!! it pretty much made my whole christmas. it's refreshing to know that in the world of making everything bigger, burger king has still taken the time to look out for those smallest amongst us. i think that if i could have large sized the midget, she would have been fairly decent looking.

Does anyone speak French?

Warning: If reading something gross is going to ruin your Christmas, stop right here. Otherwise, enjoy…

So I was talking to Goiter today over IM, and she asks me if I want to hear something really gross. Well, as the millions and millions of Dr. Yeti’s fans know, Matt Bochman isn’t a fan of gross stuff. He has no need to wallow in filth and degrade himself in hopes of getting a cheap laugh from toilet humor and…oh, wait a minute, that’s all wrong. Matt Bochman loves gross shit. If you’ve sharted yourself recently, I want to hear about it. If you have a joke or clever way of describing a taint, please share.

Anyway, back to the grossness via Goiter Bochman. She has a friend named Belinda Carlisle (seriously) that lives in France. Belinda’s Jewish, but I guess French people only hate Muslims, because she’s lived there for a while. Well recently, the usual French smells of feet (i.e. stinky cheese), body odor, and wine that she dealt with in her apartment have been replaced by something nastier (and some accompanying flies).

That’s pretty gross right there, but it’s not going to get any better people. Nope, they couldn’t take the narsty stank in the air anymore, so Belinda’s roommate Sid (the Squid) and his buddy Ludo (uhh…the Choad-o?) decided to sneak next door to see if a refrigerator had stopped running or something.

What did they find? Psycho Sid and Ludo-cris found the decomposing body of the old neighbor woman lying half under her bed! French forensics experts guesstimate that she’d been dead for no less than 5 weeks.

Gross.

Uhhh...

If you've ever wanted to see Jean-Claude van Damme get an erection on live TV, this is the website for you.

A hairy situation

I took Julia to the airport this morning, so I didn't make it to work at the usual time or on the usual bus. Instead, Mala and I caught the 61D around 11:00. The people that ride buses in the late morning are weird.

One of the old women that got off of the bus as I was about to get on had a full mustache. I'm not talking like a few whiskers or saying she was a little Italian or something. This moldy oldy had a full-on white 'stache that would make Jared proud. I will never, ever, be able to grow a mustache as thick and bristly as that old bag's.

After that amazing sight, I figured I wouldn't see anything awesome for the rest of the day. I was dead wrong.

Some dude that got on a few stops later had hairy ears. But these weren't ordinary hairy ears by any means. He wasn't some old guy with hair growing out of his ear canal. That's still gross, but it happens. No, this bastard had hair sprouting from is outer ear cartilage.

Fucking hairy lobes.

These were really hairy ears. It looked like he was horribly burnt about the ear-region and they skin grafted from a buffalo's taint. The ear fur was that thick, dense, and black. He looked Jewish; I wonder if it's a genetic thing.

I'm still disturbed.

"That boy ain't right."

Sometimes, Jared and I like to sexually harass each other.Sometimes, we like to harass Shannon.Other times, everyone likes to assault each other.Lucy disapproves.

I'm lactose intolerant.

It’s been so warm outside (Indian summer or Indian fall?) that I walked to Giant Eagle today and didn’t need a coat. It makes me want to go camping. Does anyone want to go camping?

Oh, and this heat is giving me the germit.

And it apparently made the Simpson's Christmas special suck ass.

Person of the Year

If you haven't heard already, Time Magazine recently came out with it's annual "Person of the Year". Instead of going with great leaders such as President Bush (said with heavy sarcasm) or Kim Jong Il, they went a little abstract on the American people. They went a little Cultural Analysis on us, if you will. They chose "You" as person of the year. Me, you ask? Yes. It's true. But if you read between the lines, I think you'll come to the same conclusion as I did. Dr. Yeti has been named Person of the Year! How did I come to such an outrageous conclusion? Well, if it weren't for Dr. Yeti, the Splinternet would suck. Period. End of story. The whole article on CNN.com is basically a vote of confidence in the awesomeness of Dr. Yeti. If it weren't for the worker bees at Dr. Yeti, sites such as Myspace, Facebook and YouTube would not exist. We are the driving force behind these things. No one would give a rat's ass about these sites had we not mentioned them on this blog. So take a moment to congratulate yourselves dear readers. By spending countless seconds reading our rants, you are cool by association. Person of the Year party to follow soon in the 'Burgh.

Amanda Luther King Jr.

Amanda is a teacher. Kids are horrible assholes these days, so she has to deal with that more than the rest of us. Every time she teaches, she hopes and dreams that corporal punishment is reinstated. Dude, if it was, I’d jump ship and become a teacher immediately.

Can you imagine having the power and authoritah to wipe the smirk off of some smartass’s face? If someone mouths off, BAM!, backhand to the face. You catch someone cheating, WHAM!, Asiatic thrust to the neck. Some d-stick comes to class late one too many times, SNIKT!, Tesla coil to the ear.

I would rule my classroom with an iron fist. Those little bastards would be so afraid that they wouldn’t even move. And just to keep them on their toes, I’d randomly beat the shit out of someone for not even doing anything. I’d get Slave or his mother to blacksmith me up some sort of sweet torture device to hang on the wall too.

So here’s the plan. I need all of you, Dr. Yeti’s millions and millions of fans, to lobby for corporal punishment. As soon as the government gets their heads out of their asses and does something useful, I’ll start to student teach for Amanda. Then, in her words, “we would beat every single kid (even the good ones) unmercilessly [sic]. Show em who's boss. Seriously - this is my dream.”

It’s good to have dreams.

Happy Anniversary Bitches

It’s a big day here at Dr. Yeti. Want to know why? Of course you do. You love yetis. You love R-rated Christmas perversions. You love the phrase “taint fisting.”

But back to the point. It’s our one year anniversary; scary, huh? Yep, it’s been 365 days with 317 posts. Chances are you’ve wasted thousands of hours on the site. I know I have.

What are we going to do to celebrate? Well, Shannon Brown threw us an early anniversary party on Saturday. Some of the other guests thought it was a Christmas party, but I’m pretty sure the whole thing was done to honor us. La casa de Frumpkin is half way between Jared and I, so we each headed for south central PA Saturday morning to help Shan Diesel set up. This included verbally berating each other, buying ingredients for Yeti Gumbo, and getting the keg.

If it’s not obvious to you by now, go order Hooked on Phonics while I tell you straight out that we drink a lot. We did in college, we do now, and we’ll continue to do so well into the future…until our livers give out. Anyway, you’d think with all of the boozing practice, we’d be able to get a keg without any problems. Unfortunately, we’re tards.

We took Jared’s truck to Maryland (Greencastle doesn’t sell kegs because they hate us), got the ½ barrel into the back of it, and pulled out of the parking lot. The keg promptly careened backwards and smashed into Jrrdd’s tailgate with a mighty thud. As soon as he hit the breaks, momentum sent the thing flying forward to smash into the front of the truck bed. We tried to lay the keg on its side, but we had the same problem, and we were afraid the tailgate couldn’t take the beating on the ~15 mile journey back.

There was only one solution – Matt Bochman had to stick his arm through Jared’s back window and hold the keg the entire way home.

Imagine having your arm sticking out of a moving vehicle on a frigid winter day. Now imagine that the hand at the end of that arm is clinging tenaciously to 150 lbs of metal-encased refrigerated liquid that wants to follow Newtonian laws of motion. It may have been the worst thing that ever happened.

The only good part was that by the end of the ride, my hand was so numb that I didn’t feel the keg crush it when Jared braked a little too fast to park. Kill!

After those shenanigans, the celebration went pretty smoothly. The yeti gumbo was a hit, the beer flowed like wine, and Jared may or may not have molested some pets. We slept the sleep of the just, and then went to the Antrim House for a breakfast buffet. Mmm, donuts…

But I digress. What else are we doing to celebrate Dr. Yeti’s one year anniversary of doom? Well, you’ll be interested to know that Jared finally gave me the HIV. Yep, I recently opened up the mail and found that Jared had sent me this:Cheers to venereal disease shared among friends! Do you want a STD? Then keep reading the blog for another year. We can’t promise to make this thing better, but I bet we can be as consistently crappy.

Johnny Depp agrees

It’s snowing in Pittsburgh today, probably the first decent snow of the season. This pisses me off because I have to drive to work tomorrow, and now I’ll have to clean off my car. I can’t really complain though because at least I’m not on the mountain with the yetis. They’ve probably had a foot of snow on the ground since September, and chances are their being pounded by a fierce blizzard right now...

Strike that, I am going to complain. I just had to go move Julia’s car. I couldn’t find her ice scraper because it’s apparently hidden behind a mountain of detritus in her trunk. I used my hat, some tupperware, and rage instead. After that debacle, and several others, I couldn’t find a parking spot. Kill!

Anyway, the staff here at Dr. Yeti has been on a recent kick to reinvent/rejuvenate Christmas. Some people think we’re ruining it, and maybe we are, but it’s really all just shits and giggles.

Today’s storm inspired me. What if snow was really cocaine? This is exactly what it would be like:

Man, kids would love snow days even more! You could jump on your sled at the top of a hill and end up higher at the bottom (take that physics!). It would put Colombian drug lords out of business too, so the government would totally dig it. I’m not sure it would be good for igloos and whatnot, but screw Eskimos. What have they ever done for me?

Some of our favorite x-mas stories would be a little different though. Coke can angry you up, so just imagine running into a reindeer that’s been playing nose candy games:
Yukon Cornelius was a silly bastard already. Just imagine him hopped up on blow. He’d be riding around on icebergs, babbling all kinds of nonsense, and trying to find his way back to Canada.

The Bumble would be fucked. That mofo’s been living in snowcaine all of his life. He’d be a complete mess by now. Unless it rained methadone, he’d be hooked on the junk for sure.
How do I know what life would be like if snow was cocaine? In the 80’s, we were all given a glimpse of an alternate reality where this is actually the case:
I’m Rick James, bitch!

Blue balls

We've all built our own versions of Frosty the Snowman.I'm not sure what the rake is all about here, or the fact that this snowman has feet (also made of snow?) and eyebrows. In any event, you can see that most snowmen are made from balls of snow.

But what if they were just made from balls?

Extra, extra, read all about it!

What’s the deal with clothing sizes?  I was confused for a while the other day when Julia was looking for an extra-small shirt.  Is that smaller than small or larger?  I didn’t know because extra-large is larger than large, but it seemed that XS was smaller, not larger.  

It turns out that I just have a mental handicap.  The “extra-” modifies the word after it to mean “more.”  So, it makes sense that XS is smaller while XL is larger.  Case closed, right?

Wrong asshole!  What about medium?  Which way does extra-medium go?  Is it larger or smaller than normal medium?  It has to be one or the other, it can’t be more medium…I don’t think.  Consider your mind (and your genitals) blown.

Also, Kohl’s has candles on sale that smell like pumpkin pie.

"He don't know us very well, do he?"

When I checked my email this morning, I was astonished to find this:

Dear blog author:

We recently came across your site, dryeti.blogspot.com, while searching for fellow christian bloggers.

A small group of us have started a new site called Christian Bloggers. Our prayer and intent is to bring Christians closer together, and make a positive contribution to the Internet community. While many of us have different "theologies", we all share one true saviour.

Would you be interested in joining Christian Bloggers? Please take a few minutes to have a look at what we are trying to do, and if you are interested, there is a sign up page to get the ball rolling. We would greatly appreciate your support in this endeavour.

May God Bless you and your blogging efforts. We look forward to hearing from you.

Craig Cantin
Christian Bloggers
info@christian-bloggers.com

Can you imagine if we were part of a Christian blog ring?  Seriously you guys…  Jared, are we even Christian?  How many times does the word “taint” show up in the Bible?  I wonder if these emails went out to everyone on blogger.com, or if he searched for Jesus and God and found our references to “Science Jesus” and the frequent use of god dammit.

Extreme Mistletoe

We’re entering the Christmas season here at Dr. Yeti, and because we’re not politically correct, you’ll never hear us step lightly to refer to it as “the holiday season,” “the snowflake season,” or any of that other PC bullshit. X-mas is fine, because let’s face it, the 25th is really about Santa, not Jesus anyway. If you don’t celebrate x-mas, good for you, just don’t rain on our parade.

Ok, putting one soap box away in favor of another, what’s the deal with mistletoe? I know if you stand under it either you’re supposed to kiss someone or they’re supposed to kiss you, but why? Who designated that stuff as the make out foliage? What is that shit anyway? I’ve never seen any growing in the woods…of course I was never really looking for it…and I’m not Dr. Snail, so chances are I wouldn’t even know it when I saw it in the wild.

But seriously, why mistletoe? Why not Virginia creeper? Why not magic mushrooms? Why not a fine hickory stick that you could later use to beat someone?

I’ve pondered those questions for some time, and I’ve decided that shit doesn’t matter anyway. Here at Dr. Yeti, we’re innovators not philosophers. In that vein, I give you mistletoe’s obvious replacement. It’s an x-mas upgrade. It’s the heir-apparent to the smoochie throne. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s camel toe.Just imagine standing under some camel toe with your sweetie and stealing a kiss this year. Your usual boring x-mas goes from this:To this:
Civilized world, you're welcome.

Food for thought

Remember how Forrest Gump was really good at running? Imagine if he had learned to ride a bike instead. Do you think he could beat Lance Armstrong?