Sweet creamy Christ! (literally)

Easter is almost upon us. It's the time of year when you'll see Peter Cottontail on TV and a bunch of delicious shit in the candy aisle at the grocery store. But what I never expected to see was this:

NEW YORK (AP) — A planned Holy Week exhibition of a nude, anatomically correct chocolate sculpture of Jesus Christ was canceled Friday amid a choir of complaining Catholics that included Cardinal Edward Egan.

And the best part is that the display was going to be called "My Sweet Lord." I shit you not. Read it here if you don't believe me.

Why do Catholics bitch and moan so much? Get over it d-bags. You worship a carpenter that's been dead for 2000 years. And Tom Hanks proved that Jesus had sex in a movie too.

I blame these art show taint-fisters too though. They knew what they were getting into when they hired the sculptor:

Cavallaro is best known for his quirky work with food as art: Past efforts include repainting a Manhattan hotel room in melted mozzarella, spraying five tons of pepper jack cheese on a Wyoming home, and festooning a four-poster bed with 312 pounds of processed ham.

Ham sucks. Just eat bacon.

Dr. Yeti Movie Review II

A week or so ago, we published the first Dr. Yeti Movie Review. It was a freaking success. The worldwide DVD rentals of "Dumplings" have gone through the roof. To better serve the millions and millions of Dr. Yeti's fans, management has decided to make the movie review a semi-weekly feature. That means dedication and hard work on the part of the various scientists and yetis here, and since we hate that shit, the following movie review was stolen from Ain't It Cool News (many thanks to Amanda, aka Dr. Love for providing the link):

GRINDHOUSE

Remember, when George W. Bush was elected, and he said that thing about how, by 2008, we’d have “movies that would explode in our balls like a shotgun filled with handjobs”?

Well, that promise came true two days ago when I saw GRINDHOUSE in Hollywood. Except not only was it a shotgun full of handjobs exploding in my balls, but also my balls suddenly knew how to make fire using karate. All from seeing GRINDHOUSE, a movie that’s made of screaming car crash zombie boobs.

It isn’t even a movie – it’s TWO movies with some trailers and stuff at the beginning, and also between the movies. The directors – more about them in a second (there’s TWO!) – wanted to recreate the way movies were back in the 1920’s, when you could sell a script that was one page that just said, “TITS THEN A MONSTER THEN MORE TITS THEN AN EXPLOSION THEN BONUS TITS” and everyone knew what you were talking about.

Also, there’s zombies getting killed by a helicopter, which is not only cool to look at, but shows how the movie-makers did some research, to make things realistic.

First off, the movie lets you know you’re going to get your poop kicked out of you, formed into a set of brass knuckles, and now here comes a poop-punch.

Because they show a trailer for a movie I need to see RIGHT NOW with my eyes (I already saw it in my head when I was driving last week and Van Halen’s “Panama” came on the radio and I’d just started eating a Payday). It’s called MACHETE, and it’s got that Mexican guy who’s always in movies where there’s people who really need knives stuck into them, and he’s always, “Here, let’s get those knives in you”. Danny something.

Whatever his last name is, he should change it to, “Fuck-a-dilly” because everyone says that automatic when they see him, because he’s going to bring the fuck-a-dilly to the movie, which will probably involve a foot, a face, and foot-face-fuckup. Also, Cheech from Cheech and The Chong is in the trailer, and he’s a priest and he’s shooting people, which is ironic, I think.

Then the first movie starts. It’s called PLANET OF TERROR, and it’s about a planet (which looks a lot like Earth) that’s made of pure terror. Here’s how shit-scream terrorizing it is: there’s these mutated kill-monsters, but even BEFORE they show up there’s all this fucking terror. Like a doctor who wants to kill his doctor wife, and the doctor wife is always sticking these three needles into people which fucks them up, and there’s a sheriff who’s played by that Reese guy from TERMINATOR robot. The sheriff looks like he’s always going to kill someone by crushing a bunch of walnuts in his mouth and spitting the shells through their skull.

So, there’s a lot of shit like that, plus Fergie’s cleave, some bar-b-q, bad parenting, Bruce Willis turning into a monster, and Rose McGowan with a machine gun for a leg. I’ve never seen a woman I wanted so bad to rub one out to, but also kind of killed my boner in a way that gave me a bigger boner. Oh yeah, she almost-nude dances for the first three minutes of the movie and even though she doesn’t get totally naked I need to go buy three extra PAUSE buttons for my remote by the time the DVD comes out.

!!!WARNING, MAJOR SPOILER!!!



Rose McGowan will make you cluster-spooge in your pants.


!!!END SPOILER!!!

PLANET OF TERROR is directed by Robert Rodriquez, which is all I need to say. In fact, instead of his name on poster saying, “Directed By”, he can legally change his name to a picture of a naked Viking woman on a snowmobile with flamethrowers out the back and the flamethrowers are killing a Yeti. That’s the level of guaranteed quality his name brings to stuff.

Then there’s three other trailers – one by Rob Zombie that involves Nazis and werewolves (more factual research), one by Edgar Wright that made me laugh harder than seeing an old man give the finger to a fat kid, and then one by Eli Roth that Eli Roth should make.

Actually, the fake trailers are kind of a bummer, because I really wish they weren’t fake. Maybe the government will put some “don’t be a pussy” drug in the water supply, and everyone will go see this instead of PILLOW FIGHT AND SCENTED CANDLES AND BOREDOM, or whatever Sandra Bullock movie’s coming out, and they’ll make more of these.

Then the second movie started. It’s called DEATH PROOF. You know what it isn’t-PROOF? Boner-inducing proof.

This one was directed by Quentin Tarantino, who’s been an actor in stuff like RESERVOIR DOGS and PULP FICTION (he’s also in PLANET OF TERROR and DEATH PROOF). This is his first directing job and the dude KICKS ALL SPECTRUM OF ASS. He kicks ass that isn’t even in the ass area. Like, his director skills are so stripper-with-chainsaw good they make you grow asses on other parts of your body that he then kicks. I hope he directs more movies. I would see them, burn down the theater, and then call the fire department so I could tell all the fireman about what a kick-ass movie it was. When they started to attack me with axes, I’d fly away because Quentin’s movie would have given me ninja flight.

DEATH PROOF is about this dude, Driver Mike, and he’s played by Kurt Plissken, and goddamn but that dude just gets more bad-ass as he gets older. You know how Sly Stallone kind of looks like Bea Arthur now, and Jean-Claude Van Damme looks like Ally Sheedy? Well, Kurt Plissken looks like a dumpster full of drop kicks. He could fuck a bulldozer into eight Mini Coopers. Fuck, I should pitch that to someone.

Anyway, he’s this crazy dude who gets off by killing four girls at a time in cars. Like, he’s got this car, this death proof stunt car, and he kills women by either

1. Giving them a ride in the car, and bashing them around in this special seat so they feel like they’ve watched the PINK PANTHER remake twelve times or

2. Going all Mad Max meets Humungous head-on dead-on kill-crazy.

!!!WARNING, MAJOR SPOILER!!!




The title, DEATH PROOF, refers to Kurt’s car being “death proof”.

!!!END SPOILERS!!!

We get to see Kurt fucking up these four hotties with a car crash, but then – and this is where, if you’re with your girlfriend, she’ll realize how sensitive you are – he fucks with the wrong women, and let’s just say the audience I saw it with almost gave the ending a standing ovation. But their boners would have knocked over popcorn and sodas, so they just happy- screamed instead.

First 300 and now this? I think the summer of 2007 just went, “Hey, let me take you to a free taquito buffet” and you eat all these taquitos and then the summer goes, “Here comes a foot to your stomach”, but you go, “It’s full of taquitos” but it’s too late – there’s a boot in your stomach only the boot is really a motorcycle and you puke up a bikini girl who blows you and then kills your boss with a hammer.

That’s what GRINDHOUSE is. It’s a taquito buffet that you puke up after getting hit with a motorcycle, and it turns into a bikini chick that blows you and kills your boss with a hammer.

Rodriguez and Tarantino probably don’t read this site, but someone should tell them they can use that last paragraph as a quick blurb.

Oh man, it's going to be such a good movie. Why didn't I go to movie critic grad school? I could watch movies for my job and shit then. I'm even more excited now than I was the first time we mentioned "Grindhouse"!

The evolution of the taint

Today's post is brought to you by Dr. Snail and edited by the Scientist.

The More You Know

Many of you know that I study snails, but you may not know that I am also an evolutionary biologist. In honor of Dr. Yeti’s taint fetish, I would like to examine the taint from an evolutionary stand point.

Let’s start off by discussing Stephen J. Gould. Dr. Gould was a famous evolutionary biologist and a royal asshole. While he was a brilliant writer and was employed at Harvard, he often misrepresented other evolutionary biologists’ understanding of evolution and in turn, some of SJG’s writing is used as ammo by fundamentalist creationists because they are too afraid to admit that their ancestors were excrement-flinging monkeys (a close relative of the Yeti). He was also a communist and much of his scientific writings lacked data and were politically motivated. But I digress.

Steven Jay Gould once wrote an evolutionary biology essay using an architectural example; he explained how some structures evolve merely from the architectural make-up rather than direct selection on the structure. His example involved spandrels. Spandrels are structures above an arched door or window which are often painted and decorated (I prefer the ones with naked people). Spandrels were not created for painting and decorating, they are merely a by-product of architecture. It seems to me that a taint would be the evolutionary equivalent of a spandrel. Although it’s not nice for decorating, the evolution of the taint is merely an architectural by-product of having an asshole separated from your junk.

If we look at the taint in a broad evolutionary context, we see that the taint is primarily a mammalian trait. Birds, Reptiles, Fish, Invertebrates all have an ‘all-purpose hole’ from which babies and dookie come from. Mammals decided that one hole was not enough and somewhere along the way, developed two holes and thus creating a ‘spandrel’ we like to call, the taint. At first, taint bearing mammals were rare, but after the mass extinction which killed all the dinosaurs, taint bearing mammals rose up and have been kicking ass ever since. Perhaps the dinosaurs went extinct because of their taint-lacking status. Like Jesus said, “The taints shall inherit the earth.”

Today’s Lesson has been brought to you by the number ‘Taint’.

Sincerely,

Dr. Snail

Vote for us!

If there's one thing that defines the writing staff here at Dr. Yeti, it's a love of taints. But if there's two things, then it should be pretty obvious that we're a literary force in the science world. I mean, check out the credentials:
The Yeti - PhD. in hair growth, hippie studies, and U.S. geography
The Scientist - PhD. in being an asshole
Dr. Snail - PhD in snails and shit
Dr. Dudelove Mandude (aka Mala) - PhD. in molecular beastology

Because I know you love us, you should nominate one of our posts for The Best Writing on Science Blogs 2007 award. This is an amazing honor that Dr. Snail found and we could potentially win. I've nominated several posts (1, 2, 3), and I encourage you to do the same.

Be a hero; nominate Dr. Yeti taint.

Peace protests make me want to kill people.

I know this might be hard to fathom, but I'm not as perfect and ruggedly handsome as this blog may have led you to believe. I usually participate in, and am the cause of, several shenanigans per week. Julia puts up with a lot. To show that I appreciate her, I've promised that I won't use any swear words in this whole blog post. She didn't say I couldn't be creatively profane though...

Last Saturday, all I wanted to do was go to work for 5 minutes and then get back to my apartment; the Fates decided put my penis into a light socket, figuratively speaking. For some reason, while I was driving to work from the general direction of Julia's house, I ran into a buttload of traffic. As I crept along in my car, I discovered that the intersection ahead was blocked off.

Undaunted, I took a right, slunk through more traffic, took a left, and then tried to take one more left that would get me to work. BAM! That road was blocked off too.

With a bile-like rage coursing through my veins, I took a long and convoluted back way to get to my building, and finally did my little bit of work. Continuing my theme from earlier, I found that the experiment I was checking was a complete failure - much like Britney Spears' adult life.

But hey, what are you going to do? I shrugged it off and headed for my car. An ungodly mess awaited me.

I pulled out onto 5th Ave. and all I needed to do to get home was make a quick left onto a cross street and another quick left onto Forbes. The unmoving trail of cars in front of me told me I was in for a blood pressure spiking event. And my rage did simmer the entire 10 minutes it took me to drive 50 yards to that cross street.

When I got there, I saw that the street was blocked off, and then I saw why. There was a crowd of unwashed, placard-toting hippies protesting the war. These seminal fluid guzzling rectal lepers were holding signs saying "Bring our troops home!" while their useless complain campaign stopped me from going home.

I've never been so sickened by humanity in all of my life. These wastes of skin thought they were doing something. Well let me tell you this, if the first peace protest years ago didn't end the war, their pathetic attempt to get noticed and make a difference wasn't going to work either.

What the deuce is wrong with these penis wrinkles? Seriously, how much sand can they have in their vaginas? They better watch out, or they'll start queefing out pearls. No one cares what some hippie with dreadlocks on his grundle thinks. If your friend or relative joined the Armed Forces, they did so knowing that service included the chance of combat. Quit pissing and moaning about it, get a job, and get out of my way you urethral scabs.

The worst part was how slowly the traffic was moving. I was close enough to this seething mass of body odor radiating anuses for so long that I was tempted to get out of my car and open up a path with my tire iron. Where's your Earth Mother now you festering axe wound? Thankfully, traffic eventually got me out of earshot of the bullhorn that the ringleader was screaming into. I calmed slightly as I neared the next cross street, and then I had a brain aneurysm when I saw that it too was blocked off.

So was the next street and the next street.

By the time I could actually turn, I was closer to Ohio than Squirrel Hill. I don't think I've ever been so enraged in all of my life. Why did those prostate massaging vaginal discharges need so many streets blocked off? Did they think they'd have a bigger crowd? Are they afraid of gas-guzzling cars being too close? Or did they realize that the sheer patheticness would put a red blooded American man in a killing frenzy?

My god, I'd like to beat each and every one of them with a paraplegic person and teabag their grandmothers. What right do they have to ruin my weekend? The right of peaceful protest? Well what about my right to avoid sperm burping peter leeches crying their syphilitic eyes out about the issue of the month so I can live my life, drink my beer, and make the internet proud?

Bring our troops home? How about let Matt Bochman go home? How about shutting the crap up and letting those troops kick taint and blow stuff up like they should. If the American Armed Forces had swept in, destroyed their enemies, and left nothing but a smoking hole, then they'd be home in bed right now. You hippies ruined it. You cry about human rights and want to give peanut butter to Muslims. Maybe we should send all of you to the next war. If I was the enemy, I'd commit suicide just to get away from you.

Sweet creamy Christ!

radio silence over

i'll admit, it's been pure laziness that i have posted anything in a long time. i think the scientist has more than adequately handled the responsibilities in my abscence. KILL!

nothing really exciting has happened to me during my hiatus. nothing ever really happens in the yeti's life. i will be departing richmond wednesday morning and heading the the world's greatest city, pittsburgh for a conference. i'm not really sure what all i'll get to do while there, but i think i am planning on going to the national aviary and spending some time with the penguins. and no, not in the way david medlin spends time with the ladies in monroe. i also hope to get in a little q.t. with the scientist and mala. again, i am only friends with the scientist in order to be friends with mala. it's quite convenient.

last tuesday i started a citizen's fire academy here in henrico county. it's gonna be tits (in the words of bobby krause). basically i will get to drive a fire engine, rapel 7 stories and tool around in a simulated smoke-filled building. if all goes well, i'll be assuming the rank of neil thorn in the henrico fire department.

for those pig-roasters out there, i'm not sure i will be making the trip this year. not sure the funds will be there to blow on copious amounts of brew. rest assured, i will spoon kris brown some other time.

kill you bochman!

Mission accomplished

The millions and millions of Dr. Yeti's fans have come through once again. Yesterday, I rallied the troops to make Dr. Yeti the #1 stop on all of the internets for searches concerning Dr. Yeti taint. And by god, you maniacs have already pushed us to the top. Bravo readers, bravo.

But why should we stop here? It's fucking retarded that when you Google Dr. Yeti we're only hit #116. Sure, that's out of over a million, but we can do better! Dr. Yeti is the place to be for Yeti- and taint-related humor.

In our extensive archives, you can find posts about Yetis, Yeti taint, Dr. Yeti, Doctor Yeti (PhD, not MD because MD's are fags), taint diving a yeti, and other subjects of that ilk. What's not to love? We also have a Dr. Snail. I'm sure none of those other 115 sites ahead of us can claim that.

KILL!

I'm not a vegetarian.

My urine smells like celery. Should I be worried?

We have a mission.

As you already know, Dr. Yeti is an internet phenomenon on par with Yahoo, AOL (before it sucked taint), and Star Wars Kid. I think our site counter must be wrong, because I'm sure we get roughly a million hits a month, but I digress. All you need to remember is that we're a damn powerhouse, and you should fear our hairy wrath.

That said, I'll admit that we could be stronger in several areas. If you Google Dr. Yeti, we're not one of the top 10 hits. There are other more yeti-oriented websites out there, and I think there's some confusion with a Dr. Who episode that featured a yeti. If you Google taint, one of our favorite words, we're similarly no where near the top of the food chain. Let's face it, sites devoted solely to the taint are always going to trump us.

The thing that bothers me is the fact that no one in their right minds could mention "Dr. Yeti" and "taint" as often as we do in close proximity, but we're still only the #5 hit if you Google the combined Dr. Yeti taint phrase. Sure, you could search for "Dr. Yeti" taint, in which case we're the one and only hit, but that Boolean shit is totally gay.

Anyway, the goal now is to bump off taint.org and the myspace profile (or gayspace gayfile as we Facebookers refer to them) that mentions Yeti Taint so that we can be #1.

I know, I know, we're already #1 in your hearts, but your internal organs are useless to me.

I have no clue how Google ranks stuff, but I think it deals with how often sites are updated and visited. So if I have to update this thing constantly and babble about taints, yeti taints, the taint of a yeti, a family of yetis that have bald taints, Dr. Yeti's taint of doom, the Dr. Yeti taint factory, and Dr. Yeti's cure for taint warts, I'll do it. And you guys have to promise to visit the site every chance you get, comment, send the links to your friends, and generally advertise that Dr. Yeti is the one and only home for taints on the internets.

GO!

A man among men

Dane pissed on an endangered species.

What have you done lately?

Craft stores and shit.

Why do women love craft stores so much? From my experience, women always complain that they don't have any free time. They have to cook, clean, pop out babies, work, etc. If they didn't try to cram arts and crafts in there, maybe they'd have a little free time to watch TV.

Julia took me out to dinner yesterday, but first we had to stop at Joann Fabrics. She said it would only take five minutes, so I did a quick mental conversion of that into woman-time and realized we'd be in there for approximately 6 days.

My math was correct.

This store was out of control. I'd never seen so much crap in all my life. Pink, shiny, fluffy, sticky, girly nonsense everywhere. My testicles actually got sucked up into my abdomen and started turning into ovaries while I was in there.

They had a whole section of paper that you glue other stuff to. They also had a rack of magazine and books with amazing titles like "Rubber Stamping Quarterly" and "Knitting N'At." Plus, there was no lounge for men sit in while their women-folk bought things. At least some of those shitty stores in the mall have benches for me to sit on.

I'm just thankful that I wasn't the only guy in there. I saw plenty of other men following meekly behind their women, uselessly dreaming of a quick escape. You could tell the ones that had been in the store the longest too; their eyes were glazed over, and their vital organs had begun to shut down.

That's why I'm writing this. These stores are like quicksand; they'll suck you in, and you'll die! The cashier even tried to seduce me into coming back by telling me I could tie flies for fishing using their products. Thank god I'm a gear fisherman. Watch yourselves boys, watch yourselves...

Good things never last.

If you're a longterm fan of Dr. Yeti, you know we like large hamburgers and dislike when good things disappear (i.e. our favorite TV shows end). Recently, the stars aligned, and the Fates saw fit to shit a combination of the above into my lap.

For the people that don't know, the fast food industry has experienced a shakeup in the past few years. After that dude made the movie about ruining his health by eating nothing but McDonald's for 30 days, the Golden Arches got all pussified. Instead of greasy beef and fries, McDonald's is all about salads with cranberries and mandarin oranges and shit.

Burger King saw how totally gay this all was, so they went the opposite direction and produced some of the most monstrous burgers to ever grace a drive-through. These things are delicious, but they're pricey.

Well, Wendy's wasn't going to sit back and watch all of these shenanigans happen from the sidelines. No, they decided to try to make a big spicy burger to tempt our taste buds. I can't even remember the name of these things, but long story short, they sucked a T-Rex's taint.

But then Wendy's totally redeemed itself. They started selling a $1.99 triple stacker! What it lacks in bacon, it more than makes up for in affordability. The triple stacker value meal at BK would cost like $6, but the Wendy's version is a cool $3.96.

This whole chain of events made me really happy. I was looking forward to eating $1.99 triple stacks for years. Grabbing them on the road on the way to camping. Munching them after a hard night of drinking. Buying an extra one to throw at somebody.

And then I found out it's a limited time only deal...

KILL!!!

Do what I did, buy as many of these things as you can right now, and freeze them.

One more thing about movies...

If you haven't seen any commercials for "Grindhouse" yet, you're missing some of the sweetest shit ever shown on TV. There's a woman in this movie with a gun for a leg. A gun for a leg! Why didn't I think of that?

In any event, if you want to learn more about what's surely going to be the greatest movie ever, check out what the New York Post had to say about it:

March 15, 2007 -- THE people who dole out ratings at the Motion Picture Assn. of America just might flip out when they see "Grindhouse," Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez's tribute to the ultraviolent, nudity-drenched pictures that once screened 'round the clock in the grungy movie palaces of 42nd Street.

The Weinstein Company, which is releasing the picture April 6 through its Dimension Films arm, needs an R rating for the flick to get into mainstream theaters. But, "some of it is so graphic and outrageous for a major Hollywood studio, there's no question it's headed for an NC-17 without big cuts," says a Page Six operative, who got a sneak peek at the most over-the-top footage.

"Grindhouse" is actually two short movies - one directed by Tarantino, the other by Rodriguez - with an intermission between them. During the break, a series of fake trailers will be shown for such fictitious titles as "Werewolf Women of the SS," directed by Rob Zombie.

"In one scene, a cute, topless girl is roughly tied down on a table by evil female Nazi experimenters who begin draining her blood and, as she screams in agony, they brand her like livestock with a coal-hot steel swastika," our source said. "And every girl in the Nazi concentration camp is topless."

Another trailer, directed by Eli Roth, of "Hostel" fame, is called "Thanksgiving," in which a town's celebration of Turkey Day is interrupted by a mad slasher.

"There's a part where Jordan Ladd [daughter of Cheryl Ladd of 'Charlie's Angels'] is in a car with her boyfriend and giving him [oral sex] when she lovingly reaches to stroke his hair and discovers his neck is just a bloody stump - some maniac had just cut off his head while she was in the act."

Later, a frisky cheerleader climbs onto a trampoline and begins stripping naked as she jumps up and down until she does a split and her skirt blows up without panties underneath. "You get the full 'Britney Spears-getting-out-of-the-limo view,' " our source says. Another jolting scene shows a grossly obese man chewing on a baby.

How much of these moviegoers will end up seeing is anybody's guess. "Some cuts definitely will have to be made. There's no question," conceded one studio insider. A Dimension rep declined comment.

If they cut a single scene from this movie, I'm going to burn down the Whitehouse.

Crotch

I apologize for the recent lack of blog posts. I was getting a talk ready for the Pittsburgh Yeast Meeting pretty much all week. It's nothing that should take very long, but my boss likes when I give practice talks, so the whole process was stretched out.

Anywho, after all that work and practice, you think I'd be ready right? Well, no matter what the forum, I still get nervous in front of crowds. I don't really like talking to begin with, so talking in front of people doesn't help. I also find it hard to get started. The first couple of slides I go through are always a mess.

Again, who gives a shit, right? Well, on this particular occasion, my better half decided to surprise me and showed up for the talk. Understandably, Julia doesn't like it when I embarrass myself (and by extension her, I suppose) in public, so I had to be on my best behavior.

That behavior lasted exactly one slide. I got stuck on my intro trying to describe a piece of DNA. The DNA that I had cartooned out looked like a big Y, and I was trying to describe the portion where the two arms met. I couldn't think of any decent words like junction or intersection, so I just called it the "crotch of the DNA."

I could hear Julia groan from across the room.

Oops...

Fried foods

When I die, I want to go like Bill Brasky:

"Bill Brasky had a four day heart attack...a day for each chamber. At the autopsy, they said his heart looked like a basketball filled with riccotta cheese."

Towards this end, Santa brought me a deep fryer. I've used it a bit, but I haven't really made anything too spectacular in it.

Frank Parry, on the other hand, is a deep frying genius. Last night, he made two different kinds of wings, zucchini, chicken nuggets, and french fries. My GI tract should be well-lubricated for weeks. We toyed around with the idea of frying some Oreos, but everyone was full, and I think he was out of pancake batter.

I will have to say that I've run across one pretty good recipe. The Yeti and Dr. Snail have told me the tales of eating catfish nuggets in Louisiana, so I bought a catfish fillet the other day to see what I could do with it. After scouring the internets, I decided to try an Emeril recipe:

1. Marinate catfish nuggets (or chunks of fillet) in lemon juice, minced garlic, parsely, and creole seasoning for up to 10 min at room temp.
2. Coat in a mixture of cornmeal, all purpose flour, and more creole seasoning.
3. Deep fry at 400 F until golden brown.
4. Eat the hell out of them.

Trust me, you'll love them.

Dr. Yeti movie review

I like to watch movies. They're great reasons to eat, drink, and generally be slothful (remember Sloth at Juniata? She had two different colored eyes that were on entirely different latitudes on her face.). Watching a movie is better than doing something constructive or helpful to mankind.

One of my constant sources of movies and movie recommendations is the dynamic duo of Amanda and Parry. They've introduced to me to common cinematic gems such as "The Rules of Attraction," "May," and "The Descent." They've also turned me on to a lot of amazing/crazy Asian stuff like "Cat Soup," the "Battle Royale" movies, and last night, "Gaau ji."

Gaau ji is Chinese for Dumplings, and Dumplings is Chinese for shit-house crazy movie. Get this: the plot is that there's an aging actress that's seeking a way to stay young so she can be attractive for her husband. And sure, the "aging" actress looks young anyway, and her husband, who I think they just refer to as Mr. Lee but I'm going to call the Silver Fox, will dip his wick into anything that moves, but ignore that for now.

I think I just had a brain aneurysm.

Anyway, Mrs. Lee hears about a woman, Aunt Mei (the Asian version of Spiderman's Aunt May?), that makes special dumplings that are supposed to revitalize you. The secret ingredient...human fetuses! The entire movie is basically about one woman cooking fetuses and another eating them in various dumpling forms.

Apparently, fetuses (feti?) in the 5th month are the best. But the gradations of quality go even further. It's better if it's a boy fetus because Chinese women mostly abort females. If it's a first child, that's even better, and if it's the product of incest, then you've stumbled on the holy grail of fetal cuisine.

For some reason, Mrs. Lee started smelling weird after eating the incest fetus even though Aunt Mei smelled normal and she ate the hell out of it too. Oh, and the Silver Fox had an appetite for fetal chickens and decided to have a lot of sex with Aunt Mei after her found out she was a cannibal.

My suggestion: re-read all of this and go rent/illegally download the movie!

Happy Steak and Blowjob Day!

Let's face it people, much like weddings, tampons, and cats, Valentine's Day is mainly for women. Sure, lots of couples exchange presents on V-Day, but it's generally the girls that get the better end of the deal: flowers, candy, dinner, and even romance if you're lucky. I guess we can thank those dicks over at Hallmark.

I'm not saying women shouldn't have a holiday; I just want to know why there's no Man Day.

Thankfully, society isn't just sitting on its collective ass while faced with this injustice. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages, visionaries have evened the score with the invention of Steak and Blowjob Day. It's today, March 14, exactly one month after V-Day. Basically, the tradition is for the lady to cook a steak for her man-friend and then give him a hummer.

Check out the link for steak recipes, the history of S&BJ Day, and even an oral sex tutorial...

Kerouac

Today is Jack Kerouac's birthday. I swear that I will stop posting these birthday blogs, but some you can't ignore. I'm sure the parent who wrote the wonderful letter to the teacher will be tipping back a big jug of wine in honor of Kerouac. You see, Kerouac produced some pretty awesome American literature, which sadly, we really don't need, his literature which influenced a whole generation and spawned the counterculture of the 60s (as some say, and I tend to agree). In his honor, I suggest that all of your loyal readers get wildly drunk and have as much sex as possible.

Mondays are useless.

In case you weren't already aware, Mondays are fagtarded. They're totally good for nothing.

Twice a year, when we have to change our clocks for daylight savings time, my whole body is thrown out of whack. For some reason, I just can't adjust fast enough. I guess it's like jetlag or some shit. Anyway, I thought I was ready for the DST fallout today. I got lots of sleep and had all of my clocks set right. Or at least I thought I did.

My damn work computer apparently gets its time info from Pitt's network, and those taint-munchers haven't sprung ahead an hour yet. I tried to just manually fix my PC clock, but then I lost my connection to the email server. Kill!

That's gotta be part of the reason my day sucked so much. I had no idea what time it was, ever. All of the science I attempted to do turned into a pile of feces too. I set up no less than 32 helicase assay reactions, and not a damn one cooperated. I hurt my finger in the process too.

While I wasn't failing at that stuff, I was busy working on a talk I have to give this Friday. And you know what? It's a damn disaster. I can't keep it short enough, I have no transition from one topic to the next, and the info is too hard to understand. It's going to be a great talk, trust me...

My lunch sucked too; I was all out of nectarines. Jared was probably eating Chinese food and drinking champagne from a stripper's ass-crack, and I was stuck with a peanut butter sandwich. Kill you Jared!

If I didn't have Julia keeping me sane, I'd probably be...well, you know...not sane anymore.

You make me sick.

As of this posting, no one has commented on the Johnny Cash or Chuck Norris birthday posts. What the hell is wrong with the millions and millions of Dr. Yeti's fans?

I can see why Johnny might be ignored. I mean, the guy's dead, so it's not like he can blow out the candles on his cake or anything. But Chuck Norris? Chuck Norris's tears cure cancer! Until no one commented on his birthday post, he'd never cried. When we told him about it though, he shed a single tear, went to the cancer ward at the nearest hospital, and then roundhouse kicked the teardrop into the sun. The Norris juice mixed with the plasma in the sun and created a super-fusion reaction resulting in the sun's x-ray output increasing 10-fold. Everyone outside at that moment was instantly given skin cancer.

See what you guys did. You couldn't take time out of your busy lives to wish Chuck a happy birthday, and now millions of people have cancer because of you.

Oh, and Jared's pissed too.

Happy Birthday.........

Chuck Norris

On this day in 1940, Chuck Norris broke free from his maternal prison. It is a little known medical fact that Chuck Norris invented the Caesarean section when he roundhouse-kicked his way out of his monther's womb. He was born will a full beard and a dense forest of chest hair. It's rumored that Chuck was so hungry when he broke free that he ate the afterbirth and every other baby in the hospital at the time. So raise your bottle of grain alcohol and say a toast to Chuck. If you don't, he'll probably kill you.

Shannon Brown - born to be a badass

Last weekend, The Yeti and The Scientist headed northwest and southeast, respectively, to meet up squaw in Greencastle, PA. What was the cause of this blogger migration? It was no less than the Harley-Davidson themed birthday party for our former roommate Shannon "Shan-Diesel" Brown, aka the Frumpkin.Being men, we had no idea what kind of present to buy, so we decided to get a bunch of random stuff (mostly from Walmart because Brownie works at Target). And what could have been a major shenanigan turned out to be a pretty decent gift. Much like Jesus got gold, frankincense, and myrrh from three wise men, Shannon Brown received a giant Slim Jim, a camp hammock, a Dr. Snail-approved summer sleeping bag, fire starters, and an 18 inch machete from two dumbasses.

Taking our tard-cue, Shannon proceeded to cut his cake with the machete:Surprisingly, no one died or lost any limbs. Unsurprisingly, the evening quickly degenerated into a homoerotic food-fest:Not pictured, but never forgotten, is fishing legend Kris Brown. He was mightily dry-humped when he called his girlfriend. That'll learn him!

The Teacher

Apparently, Jared sold you out, so here I am with a new post...

If there's one thing that's readily apparent of the staff here at Dr. Yeti, it's that we're lazy...very, very lazy. That's why we like to invite guest bloggers like our field man Dr. Snail to write stuff whenever they can; it saves us work.

In that vein, I'd like to introduce you to The Teacher. The Teacher is an old friend of The Scientist and could very well be in charge of your child's education. Apparently, some people don't like it when someone attempts to enlighten their kids though:

From: RetardedParent@dbag.com
Sent: Saturday, March 03, 2007 6:43 AM
To: Teacher, The
Subject: I'm Concerned About The Kids

You are a monster. You are ruining kids lives over stupid shit like literature that only a person like your lame ass would need for their future. Literature is retarded, when will you need it unless you teach it or get a question on jeopardy or some crazy shit like that. My daughter has good grades in every class but your literature class, and I think it is bull shit. You are a disgrace to society and I wonder how people like you get to teach such meaningless and ridiculous subject matter to todays youth. i bet George bush hates books, and he runs the country. Of mice and men, grapes of wrath, the red badge of courage, the scarlet letter, where can i stop, its all retarded. You better think about how stupid your teachings are before you ruin someones chance at college over something as ridiculous as literature.

Please let me know you recieved my e-mail

Mr. Retard

Wow. I guess it doesn't take much for the Tard Family here to get riled up. Some people might agree with the monster comments because The Teacher is directly responsible for the death of Owen Hart (and at least one hobo), but being a monster for trying to educate some ignorant-ass kid is hardly legit. And I like G.W. as much as the next guy that doesn't give a shit about anything, but connecting his hatred of books with your kid's stupidity doesn't seem like a smart move to me.

But what do I know? I'm just a highly educated person that reads for pleasure, can wear shoes with laces instead of velcro, and whose parents aren't brother and sister...

Kill you test!

There will be no blogs written by the Scientist until after he's finished with his Biochemistry of Macromolecules take home test. In the mean time, if you want to read about taints, Shan-Diesel's birthday machete, and/or prank phone calls, you'll have to depend on the hairy benevolence of the Yeti.

Kill you Jared.