|Blogging Like I've Never Blogged Before|
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
With all due respect Ms. Walters, you are a fucking idiot.
Here is her reasoning:
This year's "Most Fascinating Person" did not change the world as we know it. She did not cure a disease or win the Nobel Peace Prize. What she did was love someone with no demands, no deadline - that is to say, unconditionally. She is the new Duchess of Cornwall, Camilla Parker Bowles.
I just noticed that if you rearrange Camilla's name, you get "real Camil kraP Bowels."
That would have been a more fascinating person for the year. Real Camil Krap Bowels. Sure, it's not a person and two of the words are spelled wrong, but I have a feeling I'd be more interested in the intestines of a camel more than a woman whose only accomplishment was loving a prince. Sure he's an ugly prince, but that's what chicks do. They dream of falling in love with princes. Somewhere around the age of eleven or so they usually abandon that dream. Not Camilla! She was steadfast.
In Love With a Man Who Wouldn't Commit
Wow, that's pretty rare.
If you have the stomach to read that whole article (trust me, it takes a strong stomach... one with Bowels like a Camil!), you'll find that Camilla pretty much waited around for 30+ years while Charlie poked his royal willy around England. Yes, she did marry someone else while she waited, but Camilla, come on. Grow a pair!
Hey, so I was at the doctor the other day, and while he was doing his check up stuff, he got a phone call from another patient. He had no problem talking to her and discussing her problems while I was there. Yeah, he was on the phone, so I guess the doctor/patient confidentiality remained, but the stuff they were talking about made me uncomfy. She had some lady problems, and he was talking really loud. He was like, "So, is it just the redness around the vagina?"
I swear I am not making this up because of my love for the V-word, but the dude yelled VAGINA! It was the loudest word every time he said it. The best was that the door was open, so anyone who looked in and saw me sitting there might not have realized he was on the phone. So they heard him asking me if I had anything oozing out of my vagina.
I also know that she is allergic to penicillin.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005by mike 11/29/2005
Monday, November 28, 2005
"Sorry I didn't reply to your RSVP, but I was running late and only had time to write 10 letters, so I just threw it in the trash and ran out the door. If only you started me off, perhaps with an M for Mr., I would have replied."
Since my name starts with M, I just like to write "ike Toole." It saves me a shitload of time. So really, I'm not complaining. Just curious.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
This will be an odd Thanksgiving, because it will be my first without Uncle Hank. He's still around, but the Toole family has disbanded! My parents are going to visit my sister in Missouri, so I'll be hanging with my older sister and her new family.
So you might say, Seems as though your parents love Laurie more than you and Christina.
Yes, it might seem that way, but my parents are actually going out there to let Laurie know that they are giving her up for adoption in the new year. It will be difficult and I will miss Laurie, but we've all agreed it is for the best. No one in our family really wants to have a relative that voluntarily lives in Branson, Missouri. I'm sure there are plenty of families that will be willing to take her in.
We put an ad in the paper for anyone who might want to adopt a singin' and dancin' queer. If you do a Google search for her, you can see that people everywhere love her and her singin'. For example, duhutch74, said here that Laurie "was very impressive."
So if you live in the Branson area and are interested in adopting a 28-year-old woman who has a great singing voice, please let me and my family know. We'll start the bidding at two bits.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
I haven't blogged in so long, I kind of forget how to do it. So here's a quick dumb little thing. (Hey, maybe that's the whole point of blogging... a quick dumb little thing.)
I was at a diner recently eating breakfast, and there was some pretty poor service. It took a long time to get food. But I am not one to complain. There was this other lady at a nearby table who was one to complain. She wasn't complaining about how long it took to get her food, but about the quality. She was complaining about her bacon.
And she was a total bitch about it. I don't know exactly what she said, but you could tell it was rude. And she is returning bacon.
I believe she was complaining about that it wasn't cooked enough. OK, fine. But she returned it FIVE TIMES.
Holy crap, you've gotta be a very trusting person to return something five times. After the fourth time, I wanted to tell her, "You know, there's a good chance when you first got your bacon, it wasn't cooked to your liking. But now it doesn't taste right, because there are four cooks back there sticking that bacon up each other's assholes."
You just can't return something more than once.
Speaking of the number four, I once wrote on this blog how 40 should be spelled fourty. I've gotten plenty of searches like "why isn't forty spelled fourty." And it's a good fucking question. Anyway, one day I was writing a check, and I realized I spelled "forty" as "fourty." The best part about that check is that it was for my student loan. So there I am writing a check to the Department of Education with a number spelled wrong.
"Thanks for the education, America. I can't spel!"
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Thursday, November 03, 2005
What? Have questions? OK, here is the story, in all its costume wearing, beer guzzling, nipple biting goodness.
So I am in DC visiting my ladyfriend (I left the FUCKNUTS dollar at home, per her request), and Rich invites us to go to a Halloween party. The party is being thrown by a friend of Cori, Rich's wife. We get there and the party is kind of lame right off the bat. There are only a few people there, and they seem to already be very drunk. There was this one guy who was dressed up like a security guard, and he was one of those annoying "I'm in a Halloween costume and I'm going to play the part of my costume all night" guys. So we walk in and he says, "Lemme see your ID's!"
Oh man, that's good!
Actually, it's not very good, because security guards generally don't need to ask for ID's. He should have said something like, "Hey, quit your loitering!" Anyway, the gal throwing the party immediately tells him to shut up. She obviously doesn't like him. Neither do I, to be honest. He seemed like a bit of a loose cannon. A loose drunk cannon dressed like a security guard.
Oh, so anyway, there are just a few people here at this party, milling around the kitchen. The party host says, "Oh, there are more people here, but they are all downstairs." OK, cool, let's head to the party!!!!
So we go downstairs and there are more people there, about 15 or so, but they are all really quiet and staring at us as we walked in. It wasn't like they were all sitting around playing cards or talking; they were actually standing and looked to be in party mode, but no one was talking. It was very odd.
Oh, if you want the costume rundown, I was dressed like an old man, Rich was a Mexican with a mustache and a Blackberry, Tania was a witch, and Cori was a pirate mom.
So the party host is trying to get us to play Flip Cup, which at first I was a little hesitant about just because I was really tired (and old). But as the lameness of the party settled in, we decided that getting drunk fast was a priority. Rich had already decided that we'd be taking a cab home, so a drunking we shall get!
We start playing Flip Cup, meet some people, all is well. It becomes more fun. Miracle, what that beer can do. One of the guys we are playing FC with is the security guard guy. He's a bit of a blue-collar-frat-guy-drunk, but he is enjoyable enough. I even get a picture with him at one point (see below). Also playing is security guard's girlfriend. I soon find out that she is 30 and he is 24. What an odd couple, I think to myself. She seems pretty well put together, he seems pretty ready to fall apart.
The party continues. We booze and have a decent enough time. After a few hours, there seems to be a lover's quarrel stirring between security guard and his girlfriend. I can't remember what she was dressed up as. The fight they were in seemed to really put a damper on the festivities, so much so that security guard guy has taken off his security guard costume. So now he is just John. Let me tell you -- Security Guard was way more fun than Johnboy.
I see him standing in the hallway, looking quite perturbed. He looks so much less fun without the security guard outfit.
At some point he ends up upstairs (there were three levels to the house -- upstairs, kitchen/flip cup level and basement).
We all decide to escape to the basement to get away from the awkwardness of the fighting. We are there for no more than 30 seconds when we hear what sounds like a person screaming at the gates of Hell. We come upstairs and there is John, yelling in his girlfriend's face. He is also yelling at the party thrower.
He was intense. Just yelling like a madman, and in the yelling back and forth, we have discovered that he has already hit his girlfriend and knocked the other girl to the ground. He had some scratch marks on his neck, so it appears they fought back a little. Everyone tries to corral the girls away from crazy. He now begins to threaten everyone in the room with little niceties like, "I'LL FUCKING KILL ALL OF YOU! I SWEAR TO GOD, I WILL KILL YOU."
His eyes were bursting from his head and his face was redder than a, um, a really red thing. It was sort of like a pro wrestler when they do the whole "I'm out of control" act. But this dude was seriously out of control. You would try to be like, "Hey, man, come on, it's all cool. Why don't you just leave, OK? We don't want to have to call the cops."
Then he'd be like, "I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!"
The last time I saw anything so completely insane and unable to reason with was my cat. He'd get into these moods occasionally where he'd attack me for no reason. And you couldn't do anything about it. Except my cat was cute and fluffy. Sure he had claws, but he was never a belligerent drunk
OK, so we'll call the cops. So Rich takes out his phone and walks down the hallway to the kitchen to call the cops. Guess who follows him? John goes stalking right after Rich and follows him into the kitchen. My Spidey-sense was all tingly, with the help of some shots of rum. So I follow John. I even put my beer down. I'm right behind when Rich turns around and sees him. John goes to grab Rich and his phone. I immediately put my arm around his neck and pull him back.
NOTE: I am not a strong man. I am not a fighter (because I'm not strong... if I was strong, I'd fight the fuck out of ALL OF YOU!!!!!). So I am just going on instincts here, and John is considerably larger than myself. His chest was about three of mine. I manage to pull him back and away form Rich.
We kind of dance around the kitchen, knock over a table, so now there is broken glass and beer all over the place. Rich grabs John as well and we all fall to the floor. Rich manages to get him in a headlock, and I've got one arm on the back of his neck and the other on one of his arms. Since this guy is obviously out of his fucking mind, it isn't easy.
Anyway, here's where it gets weird. Rich and I are struggling to control this dude when Rich yells out, "This fucker is biting me!"
There are two other guys standing there watching us. We ask for a little help (which I didn't think was necessary, but apparently some dudes aren't as awesome as Rich and I).
They finally help us and John is now completely pinned. We have him there for a few moments (oh, someone else called the cops). Finally, he says, "OK, I'll leave. Let me go." I'm not too sold on the idea of letting him up, but I'd rather not sit on him until the cops show up. We very slowly let him up and he gathers his belongings.
In one last show of being a psycho, he comes back into the living room and starts asking where his FUCKING PHONE IS!!! The best part about it though, was that he started rattling off the model name. He was like, "Where's my fucking phone?!? It's a Nextel 6820!! Where the FUCK is it!?!?!" He found it and was gone.
The cops got there much later and now we had to file a report about this guy hitting his girlfriend, pushing down another girl and biting Rich's nipple. It was the right nipple.
This was very sad because if you have ever seen Rich's nipples, you'd know they are a work of art. Right after Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel, he got on some scaffolding and got underneath Rich's chest and painted his nipples. The good news is that his nipple is now resting comfortably and is expected to make a full recovery.
And just as a testament to how insane this guy was, the cops told us that they found him down the street and had to mace him. We asked if maybe they could bring him back to the house so we could mace him a little, maybe stungun him and then shove a plunger up his ass, but no dice.
Anyway, all in all, it was a great night. Here are some photos.
Here is the man of the hour on the left, and that's me on the right. I call this photo "Happier Times."
Rich and myself. Pre-nipple bite.
This guy was pretty awesome. He was dressed as a "Redskins slut." I think that's what he called himself. He was supposed to be a girl that is really into the Redskins and tries to sleep with all of them or something. We just all called him Lady Portis. That's Cori there to the right dressed as a pirate mom.
That's all. I have a picture of Rich's bit nipple, but I don't think he wants me to post that up here. But if there is a public outcry for photos of his nipple, I might have to post it. Sorry Rich. And give your nipple my best.