Eleven Long-haired Friends of Jesus in a Chartreuse Microbus

Much like the Scientist, the Yeti loves TV.  One of the things the Yeti loves about TV is On Demand.  I can watch pretty much what I want, when I want.  I’ve been known to watch Rome and Dexter using the On Demand feature of my cable.  A side note, props to the Scientist for suggesting these shows.  At first, I didn’t like Rome, but after taking in a whole season, I am now a faithful fan.  Why wouldn’t I be?  I have never seen so many people getting spit on.  I think spitting in people’s faces will be the newest cultural revolution and let me tell you, I like it.

Aside from these totally awesome shows, I can also take in HBOs award winning documentaries.  Tonight, I watched one called Friends of God.  It was about evangelical Christians.  You know, those amongst us that don’t believe in evolution.  I must say, I got a good laugh out of this documentary.  Did you know that there are Christian comedians?  Well, there are and they suck!  Probably the most interesting thing they documented was Christian wrestling.  This has got to be the most fucked up ploy I’ve seen yet to get people to love the Lord God Almighty.  It’s even more fucked up that the Jesus action figures.

I wonder what the Ultimate Warrior would think about the Christian Wrestling Federation.  Do you think they will ask Mick Foley to join their wrestling league?  Will Hulk Hogan be born again and give up his evil personality?  Will Vince McMahon see the light?  I’m guessing that Ted Haggard will have a cameo at this summers “Nailed to the Cross” Summer Wrestling spectacular.  He’ll be the evil guy that had gay sex and did crystal meth, only to be converted by Jesus Freak.  God bless America.

Top ten lists

I like to read top 10 (or 11, 12, etc) lists on the internet, but lately I've run across a bunch that suck a snail's taint. Usually, I find these on Maxim.com or something like that. They try overly hard to be hilarious, but in the process pick shitty candidates for whatever list it is...and they're not funny.

Now obviously, Jared's Top 12 Mustache list was well researched and amusing. It had its faults, but he readily admit them and even remedied the worst in a second post. I started to think that Dr. Yeti's influence on the interweb would finally turn things around. Maybe we and our millions and millions of fans could buck the shitty list trend and start a new eUtopia free of assholery and doucheosity.

I was wrong.

Today, AskMen.com ranked their top 99 Most Desirable Women, and man did they do a craptastic job. Even their formatting sucks ass, so I'll just list the top 10 for you right here:

1. Beyonce
2. Scarlett Johansson
3. Jessica Alba
4. Adriana Lima
5. Jessica Biel
6. Alessandra Ambrosio
7. Shakira
8. Maria Menounos
9. Angelina Jolie
10. Elisha Cuthbert

AskMen.com, what in the blue hell were you thinking? Seriously, what kind of labial wart came up with this travesty? I have issues with both the girlies they picked and the order that they were ranked.

Why did they put Beyonce as #1? This is the chick that single handedly ruined Austin Powers 3. If Hollywood needs a black chick in a movie, they automatically cast either Beyonce or Halle Berry. That's no reason to be #1 on the list. Beyonce sucks; she sucks Krauses's biological warfare taint.

Shakira might be mildly attractive, but do yinz yard apes realize that she's approximately 3.5 feet tall? I don't care how well she can dislocate and shake her hips; she's a midget. Midgets are only for our amusement.

Who are Alessandra Ambrosio and Maria Menounos? Are they on the list because their first and last names start with the same letter? How do you pronounce Menuonos anyway?

AskMen.com should've asked the manliest men ever (i.e. the Scientist and the Yeti) to make the list for them. In not doing so, they've ruined their reputations and lost all credibility. Kill you AskMen.com!

Want to know how to make good ribs?

These are two recipes that the Scientist stole and repackaged as his own. If you like ribs and aren't some kind of asshole, I recommend trying them.

Recipe 1 - Rack 'o ribs on the grill n'at
You're going to need to buy yourself a nice rack of ribs. Some people like the St. Louis style ones, but I prefer the bigger ones with more meat. The only problem with that kind is that they usually have more fat that tends to get tough during grilling. Fear not! This recipe takes care of that little shenanigan.
1. Put the ribs into a 9x13 baking pan, sprinkle a little cider vinegar and soy sauce over them (enough to make a little puddle in the bottom of the pan), and hit them with some salt and pepper.
2. Cover this with foil and cook at 350 in the over for 45 min, turning the ribs once to season up the other side.
The vinegar steams through the fat here, making sure that it won't be a mess later. The ribs are essentially cooked now, but they're finished on the grill. You don't have to use cider vinegar either, but apples and pork are some classic shit, so why mess with it?
3. Either refrigerate ribs for later use, or toss them on the grill.
4. Brown each side, brush on BBQ sauce, turning often and adding more sauce as you see fit.
5. When they look good to you, eat the hell out of them.

Recipe 2 - Crockpot ribs, go!
You can use the same ribs as above (cut into pieces), or you can get those bigass country style ribs that have little or no bone involved. The meat is going to fall off of the bone anyway, so do whatever you want. The Scientist swears by the country style here though.
1. Put the ribs in the crockpot, hit them with a little soy sauce and any kind of seasoning you might like.
2. Dump a bottle of BBQ sauce on top of everything.
3. Cook on low all day.
4. Eat.

There you go kids, two easy ways to be fat and sassy. If you're bold, you might even want to fancy-up your BBQ sauce. I like to thin mine out with some soy and/or Worcestershire sauce, add a little Frank's Red Hot and/or crushed red pepper, and then thicken it back up with a dollop of peanut butter. Trust me, it'll rock your face off.

Seriously you guys...

Oh my god, I swear I saw Santa Claus walking down the sidewalk along Forbes Ave. today. He was wearing what I imagine are Santa's street clothes, but they didn't diminish his jolliness.

Also, does anyone else like it when two girls hug and their boobs touch?

Miss Pennsylvania

Above is a picture of Miss Pennsylvania from Beaver, PA. Seeing as the people that read this blog are the best in the world at judging other people, what do you think of Miss PA?

Delusions of grandeur

Most people in grad school live modestly. We don't make a lot of money, and we're not going to be in one place for more than a few years (necessarily), so there's no need to live in a giant fancy place. That's not to say we don't live comfortably though. My apartment is affordable with a Mala-tastic roommate, and it's a nice size. J.P. has a rockin' place in Bloomfield. Hell, even Dave Hayes lives the good life with Trapper in a trailer.

Not everyone is satisfied with that kind of existence though. Some people opt for opulence. How they pay for these places remains a mystery, but what I really want to know is why? Why do you need such a big place (or think that you do...)? If you're living solo, what do you need that second or third bedroom for?

I guess if you entertain a lot, a guest room comes in handy. Mala's Norka Futon does the job for us, but we don't have tons of people that stay over. If you have a hardy hobby, I guess an extra room could be good for that too. A writing room would be nice for an aspiring author, I guess, but I tend to roam with my computer to take advantage of our wireless "internets."

Maybe the best reason to have the extra room is if you're a whore or something. You know, you could convert it into a waiting room so while you're banging one dude, the rest can sit comfortably and relax to some easy listening. It could be just like the dentist's office with old Time magazines and whatnot. If you were a prostitute and not just slutty, i.e. charged, you could even afford a receptionist. How badass would that be?

Tax season

If you need help with your taxes, go to H&R Block. They got me a butt-load of money for my refund in the space of 10 minutes the same day I called to make an appointment. If you're a first-timer, I can give you a coupon for $15 off.

Do your taxes, go!

Skip-It, Skip-It!

Remember Skip-It? It was basically a ball on a long flexible plastic rod that you you could wear on your ankle via a loop at the other end of the rod. And then you could swing it around and jump, or skip, over it. Yeah, that's pretty much about it. Until the '90's when they added a counter so you could tell how many times you'd jumped around like a helmet-wearing tard:

I'm proud to say I skipped my way the entire way around the counter on my sister's Skip-It. Once you do that, the toy is pretty useless though...

Anyway, the much maligned Skip-It came up in conversation yesterday (it happens more than you might think). The song was sung, and then a certain individual, who may or may not be known for peeing on tents, came up with a question that could plague mankind's greatest thinkers for generations - What if your balls had counters on them?

I know, my mind was blown too.

What would these counters count? Would each nad have its own counter, or would it be one per scrote? Could different guys set their counter(s) to count different thing?

I know many people that would've rotated their counters back to all zeros (several times) if they counted masturbation. "Those boys are just like a couple of little old spider monkeys!"

Jared could have a counter keeping track of how many times he's rubbed BenGay on a sore muscle, forgotten to wash his hands, and then scratched his nuts resulting in hilarious pain.

I could have one counter tallying how many times I've been abducted and probed by aliens (lefty), and the other could be a pedometer.

What would yours count?

Gift Cards

I got into an interesting conversation the other day at work.  First off, I should tell you that out of 10 employees in my unit, I am the only male.  Basically, it sucks Trapper’s taint.  Well, that’s a lie.  Some times it’s good because they leave me the hell alone.  However, there are days like yesterday when they don’t.

One girl I work with recently had a birthday.  Her husband did not give her a card for her birthday even though she mentioned it a couple of times.  She was really upset that he didn’t buy and give her a card.  He did, however, make her bacon, eggs and muffins for breakfast on the morning of her birthday.

Well of course, this got the other women talking.  According to all of them, they become upset if they don’t get a card for their birthday or Christmas from their significant others.  I was completely amazed at all of this.  Frankly, I think it’s horseshit.  They tried to sway me to their side, but for me it’s a complete waste of time and money.  The card does not need to accompany a gift.  The card is a stand-alone thing.

So tell me readers, what do you think of this silliness, nay this sillington of a matter?

Work with me here people.

Ok, now tell me honestly, if you saw this person on the street, wouldn't you think that she was retarded? Singing talent aside, doesn't Satchmo here look like she's got either too many or too few chromosomes? Her eyes are like 3 and a half feet apart, a sure sign of wicked retardism.

Clementines piss me off.

Matt Bochman likes oranges. All the vitamin C hoopla is a bunch of horseshit (I once ate a 5 lb bag of oranges over the course of 4 or 5 days and got a cold at the end of it), but oranges taste good. They smell kinda good when you peel them too.

Clementines, on the other hand, suck Rosie O'Donnell's taint. It's like Donald Trump is oranges and Rosie is clementines...except switch the sizes...and insert an analogy that doesn't make me sound like an F'n tardmaster.

For those of you that don't know, these choads define clementines as:

Clementine's are the tiniest of the mandarins. Imported from Spain, Morocco, and other parts of North Africa, clementines are a cross between a sweet orange and a Chinese mandarin. They are small, very sweet, and usually seedless. Most people think of clementines as small tangerines, but they're a different variety entirely, with a distinctive taste. The Clementine is an excellent eating orange. Its small size and lack of seeds make it particularly popular with kids. Clementines have been available in Europe for many years, but the market for them in the United States was made only a few years ago, when a devastating freeze in Florida made domestic oranges scarce and expensive. A lot of oranges, including clementines, were imported from Europe, and clementines started to catch on. Over the past few years they've become increasingly popular, and as the demand has gone up, so has the price.

See, they're not even American. I like American cars, and I like American citrus, dammit!

Clementines are too small. You waste all of your time peeling one, then eat it in like 3 seconds. Unless you want to peel 50 of these mofos, you might as well just eat an orange Gummi Bear. It's like the donut hole conspiracy. Sure, donut holes taste good, but why not just eat a donut then? I'd probably consume less trans fat eating whole donuts than donut holes (whoa, that's sorta symmetric) because I don't know when to stop eating donut holes.

Umm, I think the weight loss from the flu is still affecting me because I don't know where I am now.

I hate the flu.

Last Wednesday, I was doing what generations of lifeguards have warned us not to - I was horsing around. Specifically, I was acting like a retard with Julia in the stairwell. That's a normal part of my week.

And normal part of these shenanigans usually involves me picking her up, giving her a little hop, and cracking her back. Last Wednesday, the unusual happened. I bent to pick Julia up and tweaked my own back. I hurt it something fierce, quickly and violently. And let me make this perfectly clear. It's not because Julia's morbidly obese or anything; my spine is just morbidly weak and puny. Julia's svelte and no threat to a normal back.

When Thursday rolled around, I was still hunchbacked. It sucked taint. My back hurt as bad as Krause's nads did that time he had the world's worst case of "lover's nuts." Taking Gulia's sound advice, I popped a few aspirin to help me through my morning.

A few hours later, as I was sitting through class, I started to feel sick to my stomach. Julia figured this was because I'd taken the aspirin without eating anything, and lunch would calm my guts back down. Well, two bites into lunch, I knew that wasn't going to happen. I couldn't eat anything, didn't want to eat anything. I knew I was going to be violently ill. It was only a matter of time.

I sat through a meeting with the boss and a future rotation student, and I have to admit, I'm pretty impressed that I didn't die or shit on anyone during it. About 3 minutes post-meeting though, I made the decision to get the heck out of Dodge.

I walked down to my bus stop in the freezing cold...and just missed every frickin' bus. That left me shuffling from foot to foot in the Arctic conditions making arcane oaths to every deity that would listen in hopes of coaxing a bus out of the aether on promises of sacrificed goats. Low and behold, a bus rounded the corner.

It wasn't one I could take. Neither was the next...or the next.

I couldn't take it anymore. Violent expulsions of waste from my body were imminent, and I needed to find a bathroom. I more than briefly considered just throwing up on the dinosaur statue outside of the Carnegie Museum, but I knew I'd shit myself in the process.

I shuffled to the Carnegie Library instead, stumbled into the bathroom, threw off my layers of winter clothes, and unleashed a tsunami of evil from my body that would require 4 janitors and an exorcist to clean up. And then it happened again.

Thankfully, I was in the bathroom long enough that the next volley of buses showed up. After the bumpiest ride ever, I finally made it home, stripped off my winter clothes again, and unleashed a torrent of evil again. And again, and again, and again.

Normally, I don't mind throwing up. It's actually sorta fun. I mean, if you're bored, at least it's something to do. Not having anything in your stomach to begin with though makes vomiting the worst. You're always having dry heaves and barfing bile. Things were so bad that I couldn't even lay down. Being horizontal made me want to throw up more, so I had to "sleep" sitting up all night. Yep, I got a total of ~3 hours of sleep, puked, and shat all night.

It wasn't all bad though. I got to stay at home on Friday (woohoo), I lost a bunch of weight (there's basically nothing left of me), and Julia found out that I was a goddamn idiot (don't ask). I'm a little pissed that no one else got the flu from me, and I'm pretty confused as to where I got it in the first place, but I blame Creationists and Intelligent Design.

Fags.

RJ

Since I made the biggest mistake ever in leaving Ron Jeremy off of the list yesterday, I'm trying to rectify (or e-rectify the situation in RJs case). The first picture is from back in the day. I've tried to blur the image to protect the innocent. Notice RJ in all his glory. The second pic is more recent. God bless you Ron Jeremy.

Mustaches

At various times, Mala and I have debated mustaches. Mala is of the notion that mustaches are not a good thing. I feel otherwise. For about a week now, I have been compiling a list of what I think are some of the best mustaches in history. What follows is a top ten (12) of sorts including pictures and my thoughts on the person and mustache. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do.

Before we begin, I’d like to add some honorable mentions to the list, all from Juniata College. All three of these come from Juniata’s food service division. The first is Frank, the crazy bastard who could be heard yelling and consorting with the meatheads. Next up we have the bearded lunch lady. I can’t remember her name, but the mustache she sported was more than we’ll ever see from the Scientist. Finally, our top honorable mention goes to Norm. He was a big lovable guy and half the time you couldn’t understand a damn word he said. He also had a fucked up eye, which combined with his mustache made him a Juniata food service favorite.

12: Hitler

Adolph Hitler ruled the Third Reich. This is probably one of the most indistinguishable mustaches in history. Such a tyrant was he that to see someone sport this style of mustache is quite a rarity these days.

11: Groucho Marx

A famously funny person, this mustache goes perfectly with the ever-present cigar.

10: Yosemite Sam

The most rootinest tootinest mustache on the list. Yosemite Sam brought lots of us great joy as children having it out with that varmint of rabbit, Bugs Bunny. “Oooh I hate that rabbit.”

9: Charlie Chaplin

Another classic mustache is owned by the little tramp. Props to the drug-addicted Robert Downey Jr. in his portrayal. This mustaches is accentuated by the derby hat and cane.

8: Doug Drabek

For those of us who grew up watching the Bucco’s in the late eighties and early nineties, Doug Drabek is a hero. One of the better pitchers in recent Pirate history, Drabek was a Cy Young award winner. What makes this mustaches shine is the addition of the mullet. No wonder he won the Cy Young award. I’d be scared shitless at the plate facing this mustache and mullet, the coveted M-squared.

7: Peter Sellers

Sellers is one of my favorite actors of all time. He was Sacha Baron Cohen before there was Sacha Baron Cohen. Sellers sported the ‘stache for his popular Pink Panther movies in which he played the bumbling Detective Clouseau. It was no act that a bumbling detective was French. Sellers also starred in some other great pictures such as Dr. Stangelove and What’s New Pussycat?

6: Billy Dee Williams

Billy Dee is the benefactor of this list’s Rooney Rule. Granted, he didn’t need the Rooney Rule, but hey, every little bit helps. He totally made the Star Wars movies.

5: Cheech Marin

Cheech Marin will forever live in stoner lore. This picture here is from the popular movie Up in Smoke in which he starred alongside Tommy Chong. Cheech said an example for Mexicans which has been adhered followed to this day.

4: Dennis Gage

Dennis Gage hosts a Saturday morning (at least that’s when it aired in the mountains) called My Classic Car. This is a prime example of what a mustache can be…the classic handle-bar mustache. This thing take some work my friends and I’m almost certain that he wears a snood to bead every night. Kudos for the driving hat that he sports.

3: Ditka

Simply known as “Ditka”, Iron Mike is native of western PA. He attended the University of Pittsburgh and went on to coach the ’85 Bears to a Super Bowl championship. Ditka accentuates his mustaches with perfectly coiffed hair. “In a golf match between God and Ditka, who would win?” “Ditka!”

2: Tom Selleck

Magnum P.I. is one of the most famous ‘staches to come out of the 80s. What made his mustache the epitome of cool was the red Ferrari. He kind of lost some points with such movies as Three Men and a Baby, but he still rocks the mustache.

1: Burt Reynolds

I was overjoyed when I found this picture of Burt. I think this picture embodies why Burt and his mustache are number one on the list. Not only did he bang a couple hot chicks back in the day (Sally Field and Loni Anderson), but he also starred in some of the greatest movies ever…Smokey and the Bandit and Cannonball Run. He was also in Deliverance, but if I’m not mistaken, he didn’t have the mustache for that movie. Burt Reynolds is the essence of male coolness and his mustache only adds to his aura.

So there you have it folks, my top mustaches in history. You may disagree, but if you do, you’re an asshole. Please feel free to leave me feedback on the list and also offer up some of your own choices for the best ‘stache in history.

I'm just lending a helping hand.

Julia wanted me to post these pictures for some reason. Being a good boyfriend, I complied. Fear not though, I'll post an appropriately manly blog tomorrow...maybe something about jerky.

Holy crap, part 2!

This makes a good companion piece to yesterday's "Holy crap!" inducing moment.

Holy crap!

Go here now!

Jared has a 4 day weekend.

Kill you Jared.

Ladies and gentlemen, let it be known that Jared has a 4 day weekend. Like many, he has today off for Martin Luther King day, but unlike much of the country, he also had Friday off. What was Friday?

Apparently, Virginia (aka: the dirty south) celebrates something known as Lee-Jackson day. If I'm not mistaken, this is a multicultural festival celebrating Asians (Bruce Lee) and celebrity/entertainer African Americans (the Jackson 5). One can only assume that there are one inch punch demonstrations, singing, and dancing in the town squares.

Do I have today off? Not really, the boss still assumed I'd come in. The rest of the lab is here too. We hate federal holidays; they're totally gay.

And not to be a dick or anything, but I heard that MLK plagiarized a large part of his doctoral thesis. Anybody know if that's true or not? I had a chemistry professor that frickin' hated the guy, and I think he brought that up once (I'd heard it several times before), but he's not necessarily the greatest source of information. I wouldn't really give a shit other than the fact that I'll have to write a thesis some day. If I can't plagiarize, then neither should he.

And one last question for the millions and millions of Dr. Yeti's fans to ponder: what stance do you think MLK would've made in the debate of creationism vs. evolution?

Billy Crystal

Most of Dr. Yeti's millions and millions of fans are very outspoken. They comment frequently, and chances are, they revered by their fellow man wherever they go. Too bad the proprietors of the blog aren't afforded the same respect in society...

Anyway, there are a select few fans that lurk in the shadows. They read the posts, love and hate them as they will, and then disappear back into the aether. Thankfully, the blog has a site tracker so we can make sure that it's not the Taliban or something trying to steal our secrets.

Oh yeah, some of the blog poltergeists come forward and name themselves too.

I'm talking about you Heather. On Friday, she admitted that she's a secret blog fan. She also told me that she once killed a quail with her car. The little guy was flying right next to her and tried to cut in front of her vehicle. All that was left was a puff of feathers.

I've hit a lot of birds with my cars over the years. There's no real talent to it; birds have pea-sized brains, they just don't know any better. I think I felt bad the first time, but the next half dozen haven't fazed me. Once, I had my window open and feathers got all over my stuff, but otherwise I don't even care.

I didn't have the good sense to hit a bird the only time it mattered though. See, at Juniata, we always wanted to eat an endangered species. In that part of the country, about the only decent thing we could think of was bald eagle. The plan was to either hit one with our cars, or find a freshly roadkilled one to eat. But think about it, what are the chances of that happening, right?

So we widened our hunt to any large bird of prey. There are plenty of hawks n'at in Huntingdon and the surrounding area, so this was more doable. Unfortunately, when it came time to "nut up," as Jared would say, I dropped the ball. I was driving down 220, saw a huge hawk on the side of the road...and I froze. All I had to do was jerk the wheel to the right, and BAM, we could've been eating our raptor.

I was stunned into inaction. I am worthless.

Thanks for the email.

Is this the best email ever? Yes, yes it is.

From: Zhuravel Moritz
To: The Scientist

"Yo man

Don't tell me why your schlong is so small,
I will better help you to make it really Bigger!

Why bigger? Because over 88% of all women need a longer
one-eyed monster to satisfy their desire!

Go there and get your solution: http://ginomen.com "

Women, are you all really interested in these one-eyed monsters? Wasn't there one of those in Monsters Inc?

Don't worry, I'm white trash too.

With the demise of the OC in sight, I've been thinking about the greatest show ever and the cock-holes at Fox that canceled it. Are those queefers asstarded, or what? And it's not just a problem over at Rupert's network.

Anybody like the shows on HBO? Yeah, me too, but they'll cancel all of them too without any provocation. They'll take contract disputes from the Sopranos and agree to 8 new episodes every five seasons or however often those rectal spasms like to work, but then they cancel Carnivale and Deadwood despite the fact that they ruled. What do they have on instead? I don't know, but it's probably a bunch of horse shit about female genital mutilation in Africa or something.

Anyway, back to the OC. I like Julie Cooper because she's white trash like me. She's originally from the wrong side of the tracks, marries and divorces with metronome-like regularity, and lived in a trailer park for a while. In fact, I'd say she singlehandedly WT'd up the whole show:

She's her best friend's mom.
Julie Cooper married Caleb Nichol (after divorcing her husband when he lost all of their money). Cal is Kirsten Cohen's dad. Kirsten and Julie are best friends and business partners. And because Julie married Kirsten's dad, she's also Kirsten's mom.

Seth is dating his mom.
Julie is Kirsten's mom, and Kirsten is Seth's mom, so Julie is Seth's grandmother. After Caleb died, Julie got engaged to Dr. Roberts. Summer is Dr. Robert's daughter, so Julie is like her mom, but Seth is dating (and now engaged to) Summer. Because he's dating his grandmother's daughter, he's dating his mom.

Ryan is his own uncle.
Julie is Kirsten's mom, and Kirsten adopted Ryan, so Julie is Ryan's grandmother. Julie is also Marissa's mom, so Marissa and Kirsten are sisters. Ryan and Marissa were dating (before she died), so it was like he getting it on with his mom's sister. If they had gotten married, he would've been his own uncle...I think.

Ryan is also his own dad.
Last week, Julie made out with Ryan's biological father (Frank Atwood, aka Frank Parry, aka Kevin Sorbo, aka Hercules). Chances are, they'll get married. At that point, Ryan will be the son of his grandmother's husband, so he'll be his own dad.

See, how can they cancel this masterpiece? There are 800 CSI's and Law & Orders on TV, but there's only one OC.

KILL!!!

Tigger

http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/01/07/tigger.ap/index.html


I’ll tell you what, from the reports I’ve gotten over the years, Tigger is one devilish motherf***er.  His treachery is not confined to Disney World nor Florida for that matter.  Yes folks, Tigger was up to his tricks on the campus of Juniata College.  Oh, it’s true.  It’s true.  Tigger must be stopped!!

"Fuck me in the goat-ass."

The OC has been canceled. The final episode will air Feb. 22 to conclude the current season.

I hate America.

Absolutely Fabulous!

I've needed a haircut for a month and a half (at least). I mean, I've needed one bad. My hair grows so fast that it's retarded. It looked like I had roadkill on my head for x-mas. I've got to give Julia credit for even staying with me through this trying ordeal.

I made one attempt to get the hair trimmed before New Years, but Super Cuts was packed full of people. I took one look in the window, gave some geek the stink eye, and high tailed it to Giant Eagle instead. Yesterday, it was much the same, but I called and got an appointment tonight.

Usually, some old foreign lady cuts my hair there. She doesn't understand a word I say, and I just smile and nod whenever she babbles anything. Oh yeah, and she tries to wipe off or cut my devil eyebrow every time. Kill!

Anyway, things were different tonight. Yep, instead of the foreign lady, I got the old gay dude. He touched me a lot, whispered, "Close your eyes," into my ear when he was going to blow the trimmings off of me, told me a story about a thieving whore, and gave me ONE HELL OF A HAIRCUT! Those gay dudes really know what they're doing; my head doesn't look like an ass anymore.

I feel great. It's like I'm a new man whose brain can breathe. I feel like Seacrest did when Dick Clark fudged up the New Years Eve countdown and he realized the the job was his now...except my haircut's better.

My kitchen dilemma

Really this is a dilemma for me and Mala, but I largely caused it, so I'll take responsibility. I have too many appliances.

See, Santa loves me. He got me a lot of fun stuff this year, and it seems like half of it belongs in the kitchen. Julia's mom (Momma V) gave me a Mr. Coffee iced tea maker. If you like delicious iced beverages, this is the place to be. Taking a cue from her mom, Julia gave me one of those little Cuisinart food processor dealies. And then, so I could be cool like Frank Parry, my mom gave me a deep fryer.

That's not too much, I know, but we already had a full kitchen. What with the mixer, blender, quesadilla maker, two crock pots, a toaster, a toaster oven, and all the crap I can't remember, I might have to get rid of my bed and sleep on a pile of plastic, blades, and heating coils.

Of the millions and millions of Dr. yeti's fans, are any of you carpenters? I need a big old shelf built high on the kitchen wall that runs the length of the whole room.

Also, my sister gave me an inflatable boat. It's not an appliance, but it looks pretty sweet. Who wants to row out to the island in Lake Raystown and get retarded?

New Years Rockin' Evil

Did anyone else notice that Dick Clark screwed up the countdown to midnight? With 10 seconds left, he was still counting to like 14...

I know the guy had a stroke, but seriously, shouldn't he retire? I was very uncomfortable watching him. Why doesn't he just live out his golden years in glorious silence with Myron Cope?