Project Kickass
You are welcome Internet
This is Walmart!
Mar 14th
My back was killing me.
I had just moved into my new house and all the lifting really tweaked my back. I’m not sure why, I was keeping my legs locked and lifting with my groin as I was taught. I took a hand full painkillers and still could not sleep, I needed a heating pad. I was not feeling pain but I knew I had to fix my back or I would pay for it in the morning.
Looks like I was heading to Walmart as it was 4 am.
Walmart at its best is a nightmare, the shallow end of the gene pool laid bare for all to see. At it’s worst its akin to a Fellini movie starring the cast of Deliverance. As I walked in I was accosted by some twenty-something stoners driving the Walmart scooters in circles. The scooters are for the elderly and disabled not banal hipsters that are on the pot with their Rock and Roll music (get off my lawn!-God I’m old). Cheech and Chong over there seemed to think that the carts were meant for them and not the elderly lady walking in the door. After a few moments of this lady waiting for the stoners to get up and offer her a cart she started to hobble into the store.
I saw this and as I had already reached my limit of rudeness and bullshit for the day and took action.
I walked over and yelled “Hey, jackball. Get of the cart”. His reply was that there were other carts available and then he questioned my parentage. I tend to act rashly at times and my tolerance for jackassery is very low. I leaned back a bit, raised my knee to waist height and loosed a vicious snap kick to the scooter seat. The desired effect was realized as the hippie went flying. His buddy got of his scooter and I walked the scooter over to lady. She said she was fine and I insisted that she use the scooter that she obviously needed. She thanked me and I wished a good day.
The moral of my story should be obvious by now, I am a complete tool with poor impulse control.
That and I think I’m a superhero.
A Walmart Superhero!
10 things that I have learned about/from Steven Seagal
Mar 8th
1. If you google his name its often spelled Seagal or Segeal. How much do you have to suck as a movie star when half of America knows your name but doesn’t care about the spelling?
2. A ponytail makes one look like less of a bad ass and in no way deflects really bad acting.
3. There is a limit to which wearing black can hide your pot belly and wearing it in every scene kinda gives away the the fact that you are wearing it because you are fat.
4. Even though you look like an Asian mongoloid Hollywood might hire you.
5. Hire a body double for every scene that doesn’t show your face. Even the scenes where you are doing anything mildly athletic.
6. Most people fold their arms across their chest in a pseudo manly gesture, don’t rest your girly arms on top of your pot belly thereby drawing attention to said pot belly.
7. A halting delivery when speaking made William Shatner and Christopher Walken famous men, you just sound like a dumb ass that cant recall your lines.
8. When Googling your name the word douchebag comes up in every 3rd result.
9. One does not need to be proficient at martial arts to be billed as knowing same. For example if you can spell Kenpo I guess you can proclaim to be a master.
10. If you weren’t famous you’d be know as “that creepy guy”.
Screw Chuck Woolery
Mar 4th
Ok, I know it was a strange first meeting but at least you’ll have a story to tell your girlfriends.
I was at the corner mini-mart after work to get my post work soda. I was parked in the second to last slot. I usually take the farthest slot so that no one can sneak up behind me (its a partially deaf thing, I can’t tell where sound is coming from and in noisy environments I try to avoid any embarrassments).
I was bent over with the passenger door open cleaning the trash from the passenger side.
That’s when it happened. You slid in behind me in a Jeep filled with two of your girlfriends and as you cut the engine I farted, right at you. I thought I was alone and loosed the aggregate farts that I had been saving all day. The sound was deafening, even to this deaf guy.
The sound was akin to a cat and an empty paint can being throw into a dryer and the spun for 5 seconds. It must have scared you, it scared me.
I saw movement out of my good eye and immediately spun around in shock, I had no idea people were behind me or I wouldn’t have initiated the full launch sequence. There was a lot of road noise around us as I told you “Its my fan belt, it makes odd noises”. You saw the car keys in my hand and told me that fan belts do that sometimes but my car isn’t turned on. I scrambled for a comeback then said ” That’s how bad it is. It makes that noise even when its turned off”.
You laughed and I did.
We had our little moment.
As you walked in the store and I opened the drivers door to get in and you said that I might want to get that checked. I asked if you where referring to my fan belt or my digestive system. You laughed a bit more as I pulled away.
Dear reader, that’s the closest I get to a love connection.
I named your farts
Feb 25th
I sat in the ER whilst a family member underwent a battery of test to diagnose the acute chest pains she was having. I sat there for hours worrying and could think of nothing else than her well being.
Well that and the fact that a 350 pound man was sitting across from me farting. Not the kind of I’m sorry that I have gas and will try to muffle the sound, no this was full on locker-room farting.
After the doctor assured me she was fine but they would have to run more tests I settled in for another 3 hour wait. That is when I took pen to paper ( really crayon that I took from the children’s play area and a brochure that spelled out the dangers of the Swine Flue or Monkey Pox or something animal-bore illness) and started naming your farts.
The list that follows is only partial as I got a late start in the flatulence nomenclature cycle.
The chippy
The gutbuster
Zig Zag
The horn o plenty
El Tootaroo
Sphinctorus Maximus
Poop Shute’in Boogey
Achey Brakey Fart
The Three Tenors
The Terd Burglar
They Took Our Jobs
Touching Cloth
The Snorlax
If you happen to be in the John C Lincoln ER you might just find this list as I tucked it back in the middle of the other brochures so that the names that I gave your farts can be enjoyed by future ER dwellers.
The end of days draws nigh, I sat on my balls
Jan 30th
Middle age said hello to me today.
Well not middle age but as I was told by a fortune teller at the Renaissance Fair that I will only live untill 70 or so and seeing that my basic math skills are poor and I tend to round up I think my argument is valid. I don’t go in for all the hocus-pocus scooby-doo mystery stuff but she was a full-on Gypsy. Maybe she was just from Austria, either way she was mysterious and had a cool accent and I was drunk.
I digress.
I have spent the better part of my 36 years on this planet guarding my groin from the errant baseball the all to common punch from my 3 foot high nephew and the dreaded bar on girls’ bikes. I have successfully guarded them against the angry girlfriend as well only to have my testicular protecting record shattered by me. I guess it is true that you are your own worst enemy, and the worst enemy of your balls as well.
I’m not sure who says that but it is true none the less.
I am still at a loss to imagine what satanic geometry, what demonic underwear malfunction allowed this but at 3:23 PM on 30 January 2010 in the year of our Lord I sat on my balls.
The pain was almost an aside to the shear horror of what took place. I felt as if my soul left my body and my heart stopped beating for a moment. I was embarrassed, sad and dare I say impressed at my reaction time. As I sat in my chair and events unfolded I almost made it to a full sitting position before my brain registered the pain and I lept in the air and spun 300 degrees (insert Nutcracker joke) . I landed and braced myself for the oncoming waves of pain.
I would not be walking this one off.
I thought about calling my doctor but as she is a woman I try not to have conversations that start with “so here is the deal with my balls” I instead chose the internet.
I found that many other men have done the same thing and more severely.
I went to the fridge and got some frozen corn niblets and proceeded to watch “The IT Crowd” series on Netflix.
No moral to this story, unless you count “Dont sit on your balls” a moral.
