Favstar - what's the big deal?

It's late, I'm tired, dozing in and out of sleep and I'm a little drunk so this isn't going to be the most coherent post. Fuck it. Enjoy.

"Look at me! Look at me!" pretty much sums up twitter. It's the perfect enabler for the those of us who must be the center of attention, at all times. Whether it's because you grew up with neglectful parents who never showed you the love you deserved or your spouse ignores you because the relationship is dead and neither of you can admit it or you have low self esteem and crave any and all types of personal validation you can get or you're a Comedian or you think you're a Comedian… twitter is perfect for you.

Twitter allows you to run into a crowded party, scream something profound and then wait for everyone to turn around and acknowledge you for saying it. "Look at me! Look at me!" and then watch the attention shift in your direction. Do it a few times and the rush can be addicting. How do you know that people are acknowledging what you're saying?

1) Favorite - The most obvious form of acknowledgment comes in the form of the "favorite" selection. Often called a "star", favoriting someones tweet shows them that you acknowledged it and you thought it was funny or you agree. It lets them know that you read it and approve.

2) Retweets - This is the twitter equivalent of, "Did you hear what John just said?" Telling a joke, that someone thinks is funny enough that they repeat it to their other friends is powerful. It creates the chain letter effect. Retweets are unfairly underrated yet may be the most effective form of twitter validation… which is why they get me so excited I actually pee a little.

3) @replies - Replying to someone's tweet lets them know personally that you read their tweet and have something to say about it. These little conversations can end there or sometimes may lead to friendships... or all out @reply "fuck you" wars. NOTE: As a rule of etiquette though, if you agree or find something entertaining or funny, it's nice to "favorite" the tweet BEFORE an @reply.

4) Follower count - This is the final say in acknowledgment. Everything you say can lose or gain you followers for whatever reason. Piss someone off and they'll unfollow. If you're not consistent in your posts and they'll unfollow. Don't follow them back (this is a whole other topic all together) and some people will unfollow. BUT if you say something that gets people to retweet or star it, it can lead to new and interesting people. It's like a real life version of the "Sims". Sort of. Not that I've ever played the "Sims"...

This brings me to favstar. I've been asked quite a few times, "What's the big deal with favstar anyway?" Favstar is the means to which people's acknowledgments of your tweets are collected, evaluated and rated. It's the talent show. It's the prom. It's the popularity contest that drives us to say the shit we do. Favstar is crack to the twitter junkie.

Say something, people retweet it, favstar records it. Say something, people star it, favstar reports it. Get 50 or 100 stars and favstar acknowledges it. If someone thinks it's funny enough and they're addicted enough to have purchased the favstar bonus features (which I'm not even going to attempt to get into here), they can crown it "Tweet of the Day". If getting a star or a retweet is like a mini orgasm, then a "Tweet of the Day" trophy is like being invited to an all out Orgy. Plus, give someone a "TotD" and you're almost certainly offered thanks in the form of sexual favors. Not really, but wouldn't that be great?

Favstar also has a Leaderboard where the most active accounts are collected along with the Tweet of the Day trophy winners and recent up and coming tweets. Getting on the Leaderboard is like making the prom court. It's also a great place to go to find some really funny and/or fucked up people to follow.

A lot of times, you'll hear people talk about "starbanging" or "star fucking" someone. This is when they visit your favstar page or your timeline and go through your tweets, starring and retweeting the shit out of your account. This is like walking into an office full of long stem roses... or in my case, the closest thing to sex I've seen in a long time. Getting star fucked will actually bring a tear to my eye and some moisture to the nether regions. "They like me, they really like me". Excuse me, I need a tissue.

The best followers are those that acknowledge they're following you. Their stars, retweets and conversations let all of us twitter junkies know that people are listening and that we're entertaining, disturbing or turning them on. In any case, it fuels the fire. The best way to keep someone talking and taking things to the next level is egging them on. Encouraging the behavior if you will.

I'm a star whore. I love getting them as much as I love giving them. I pass em out like a Pharmaceutical Rep with Viagra pens. Make me giggle, you get a star. Make me gag, you get a star. Make me blush, you get a star. Make me cum, you get a star. I've even got a sheet of stickers in my purse. Not really, but wouldn't that be great?

In conclusion… Star, Retweet, Reply. In that order. Let em know you're listening and you're enjoying.

- Angie @getoffendedcom

I'm Losing my Best Friend...

I bought my house when I was still in college. It's a three bedroom two-story, so back then a single girl and her dog didn't need all that space let alone have enough furniture to fill it. I lived here for three years all by my lonesome and I hated it. Then, by a twist of fate, by bestie broke up with her boyfriend of nearly a decade when she found out he'd been cheating on her for years, the piece of shit. She moved out of his place and needed a place to stay. What started out as a "sleepover girl night" became "let's buy a bed for the other bedroom." She's been here seven years now and is my closest friend and like a sister to me. She's been here in the next room so long that I just assumed it would always be this way. About a week ago, she told me that she was planning on moving out. She felt it was time to "grow up, join the rest of the adults, and buy her own house". I figured in this market, she'd be here for a while and I'd deal with it when the time came… She closes on her new house Friday. We've done everything together for so long that I really don't know what I'll do without her. She's my constant, my rock. I love her and I'll be lost in this house all by myself. Does she care? Yes she does, which is why it's going to hurt so much and why I'd do anything for her. She's only going to be a couple of miles away, but it may as well be half way around the world when I need someone to curl up on the couch with and make fun of cable till 3am. The saddest part is I truly think she feels the same way. It's been Angie and Annie against the world as far back as I can remember. Her boxes are packed and the U-Haul will be here in 2 days. I plan on spending as much time with her as I can. I keep joking that if I'd agree to sleep with her she'd stay and we could rent out her new house. I'm not gay, but at this point, I'd be willing to take a few for the team to keep her close. Could this get more depressing? I bought another dog today. He's a lab mix and we (yep, "we") named him Toby. Before you know it, I'll be crazy dog lady. I love you Annie and I'm proud of you. I'll miss you but I know you need this. One last non-lesbian-platonic-scissor before you go? Thought so.

- Angie @getoffendedcom

Twitter: Why I'm Sleep Deprived

When I was approached to run our Twitter account at GetOffended, at first I was hesitant. I don't even have a facebook account. I honestly hate the new media stuff and have always preferred to interact with other people over a pint of Guinness. Now don't get me wrong, I use email, love my cell phone and have even been known to Skype while I'm traveling, but it's more productive than social. I'm the bubbly chick with the loud mouth and the comments that most people would filter before saying not the texting twit you see at the traffic light with her latte. It took some convincing but I finally agreed but only if two other people here at work helped out.

I had no idea what Twitter was less than two months ago. I'd heard about it, mostly from Tosh.0, but that was the extent of it. A co-worker, Travis, set up the account under the pretense that three of us would tweet on it including me, a single, snarky 33 year old girl in an adult's body. It literally took two weeks before we were able to rack up 100 followers, 90 of which were bots.

I think I should put a little background in here, just so you can understand why we did this. I work for GetOffended.com. It's a website that's been around for more than a decade which deals primarily in offensive t-shirts and stickers. The website is actually an off-shoot of the original venture, "The Glossary of Perversion". As the story goes, in the mid eighties, a group of friends made it a normal drinking game to sit around, describe and make up disturbing sex terms... the "Angry Dragon", the "Cincinnati Taco Chop", the "Sunny Side Up", the "Donkey Punch", etc, etc. These disturbing and disgusting terms started to take on a life of their own. Then one day, while sitting at an Applebee's in Cincinnati, Ohio in the mid 1990's, they heard a table behind them mention a "Donkey Punch" and start laughing. What the fuck? A couple years later, one of the group heard a "Cleveland Steamer" mentioned at a frat party in Tennessee when he was visiting his girlfriend... What the fuck? The terms had somehow made their way out of their basement and into the world. Seven degrees of Kevin Bacon? Apparently. The "Glossary of Perversion" was born. This dictionary of sex terms was started back in 1994 by our owner and his college roommates. This was years before the Urban Dictionary and the various other knock offs that are all across the web now. Remember, this was all years BEFORE the internet. Back then, the only way to spread stuff like this was through underground magazines and word of mouth. They printed up their Glossary and sold it for beer money.

Get Offended.com was started by the same group of guys, tired of the same old everyday t-shirts. Someone said, "Man wouldn't it be funny if we had t-shirts that said 'Donkey Punch'?" Every time we said it, people replied "I want one if you make'em". Well, that's all it took. We decided to bring it to the masses. The site went live in 2001 with a select group of 10 terms we were especially proud of.

Within two years it exploded. 2003 was marked, "The Year of the Dirty Words". Not only did every one of our made up major terms get mentioned on Howard Stern but the terms "Dirty Sanchez" and "Donkey Punch" were both mentioned on the MTV Music Awards! We like to think we had a part in that as well. We also were doing a lot of radio interviews and sponsorships... We were heard on the air in Ohio, New York, Florida, Texas, Tennessee, California, and Illinois.

Over the last eight years we've seen highs and we've seen lows. We've stuck it out, fought tooth and nail for the little corner of fucked-up-dom that we maintain. But, alas, we had fallen prey to a market that was moving in a new direction. New media is now ruling the web. If you don't have a facebook page and a twitter account, you're not seen as relevant. Henceforth, "Next item of business… Angie, you're going to run our twitter account."

Back to the year 2010. In order to help our Christmas sales, and increase site traffic, we opened a facebook page and the twitter account. My "boss", Travis set up the profiles and all settings for the accounts while I spent hours online researching how to bolster a following and increase traffic. We tried everything from buying traffic to followback promotions. All the ideas resulted in temporary followers… none of which were in our target market. We were actually tweeting promotions and ads for our stuff. Looking back, there's no wonder it was failing.

For some reason Travis started using the Twitter account to follow some of his favorite boxers because it wasn't working for anything else. (Side note, we're all big boxing fans here at the office. Even those who don't like sports have gotten into it over the years, for the drinking during fight night if nothing else). Tweeting with other boxing fans and a few boxers started generating followers. Then we added in some soccer clubs (I loves me some soccer). Twitter was getting fun, but still not adding any traffic to our site.

I believe it was the week before Christmas, when I stumbled across Jenny Johnson (@JennyJohnsonHi5) on twitter. Three of us spent a couple of hours going through her timeline of past tweets... giggling, laughing and losing it. This chick was the funniest shit we'd seen in years. This took us in a different direction. From here we started following some of our favorite comedians which included Patton Oswalt (@pattonoswalt), Marc Maron (@marcmaron), Lisa Lampenelli (@lisalampenelli), Morgan Murphy (@morgan_murphy), Sarah Silverman (@sarahksilverman) Louis C.K. (@louisck) and Bo Burnham (@boburnham). Then we started posting the most disturbing, funny and raunchy shit we could come up with. This was when the addiction started to kick in.

I started spending all day with the twitter feed running in the background. Working on other stuff and twitter at the same time. We started to get real followers, not just people following just to get us to follow them back… get your free iPad stuff. The first person who I think actually laughed at one of our tweets and helped us break through was Bad Advice Nurse (@BadAdviceNurse). Thank you Bad Advice Nurse, if it weren't for you, we may have walked away from all of this after Christmas.

When we started to get a few people that were following us and retweeting our stuff on a regular basis, we broke the account into two separate accounts. @getoffendedcom run by me and @getoffendedBone run by Travis. Our other cohort decided she would spend her time in Facebook. This made things less confusing and allowed the two of us to try to divide and conquer.

Christmas came and went. I started spending nearly eight hours of my work day on twitter reading posts and tweeting every little thing that popped into my head. I tried to be funny and witty but felt like I was failing miserably. Then I started tweeting about my frustrated sex life and my love for my Rabbit Vibrator. Fuck it, I figured I'd use it like my personal soapbox. Air my frustrations to the world and rationalize my libido and lack of dates as twitter fodder… it was ok because it was for work.

I don't know exactly when it happened, but around the first of the year, I became full blown addicted. Not since the late nineties when I would spend all hours of the night in chat rooms like Bianca's Smut Shack have I been this enthralled in the internet. The difference is, this time I'm sort of being paid to live this life. Lucky me.

Through the month of January, I let loose. I started tweeting everything, holding nothing back. No filter, no worries… it is liberating to say the least. Also, somewhere along the line, I've been making friends. There's a handful of people that I socialize with on the side. We send direct messages back and forth, just chat about dating and what's going on. They've become my twitter family.

Beyond the social, there's a larger community of people that make up the heart of my twitter. These are the funniest, most entertaining souls I've been privy to since college. They inspire me. They encourage me. They keep me honest. They keep me sane. All of this since December of 2010. Addicted? Yes. Romanticizing? Maybe.

Did I mention favstar? Favstar is the best and worst part of my twitter. When you tweet something that others like, they can "star" it, which in essence is like the new media version of a "laugh" from someone. They can also Retweet it which is the new media version of "did you hear what Angie said?" Add in "Tweet of the Day" picks and 50/100 "Favstar" mentions and it's a little like a High School lunchroom. But, like High School, it's hard not to get sucked into this popularity contest.

I'm going to try to keep posting about my Twitter experiences here. It's hard to express how much I enjoy it when you are required to keep your thoughts coherent 140 characters at a time. There's so much more that I'd love to get into… Follow Friday, Trending, Hashtags, Favstar, Followback, etc. We'll save that for another day.

I want to end with a few mentions… and I know now that I'm not going to even attempt to mention everyone, but here are a few that I can't forget.

Thank you for being there since the beginning: @BadAdviceNurse @java_chris @F00tballSux @willoffendyou and @getoffendedBone

Thank you for keeping me sane & giggling (you should be following): @hotmommabits @funsizdprincess @0214inFL @slyoung5 @zip_it_zippy @SugarTits84

Thank you for keeping the funny going (are you already following?): @JennyJohnsonHi5 @BadAdviceNurse @ShittingtonUK @amyschumer @colinkane @YeahImAshley @willoffendyou @moshekasher @BoobsRadley @kellyoxford @TheThryll @meganamram @RobSprance @shelbyfero @kammygibbler @Slashleen @YUCKYBOT @momfia @andreaseigel @rodney_at_large @tackie_jackie @dietredbull @UNTRESOR @lunchyprices @LittleHarmonica @robdelaney @ChelseaVPeretti and @nirvana68

AND, I can't forget the following (You should be following them too!): @thebestmonkey @JillMorris @MrsVitch @MisterPrankster @Cacheinhand @knotta_tardfan @sheepie91 @violetsiva @BillMc7 @SedateMeNow @angrylittlebee @CelticWombat @tamytoo2 @Cocaine_Dealer @PlatinumShower @ArtIsMyPorn @minionzero @cant_win @lifeinsandbox @BohoPoetGirl @Cherhole @Molly_Kats and @vagstar

It's all Angie's Fault...

We drew straws here at the office and it's Angie's turn to write in the Blog. We've been so busy since Christmas prepping things for 2011, that we've let the blog slide. Since she's the quietest here at the office, we're blaming it on her...

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer = Most offensive Holiday Special Ever

I watched "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" the other night with my two boys. It's a holiday tradition at my house. Every year, the film grows more and more disturbing. I don't know if it's just because I've seen it so many fucking times… It was made in 1964, but it may as well have been made in Berlin in 1940 as part of the Third Reich's propaganda campaign against the west…. that is until the last 5 minutes when everything is made wonderful again…

I suggest you watch it again, but consider the following.

1) Hermey is obviously a gay elf with an unhealthy oral fixation. He's kicked out because he makes the other elves nervous. Apparently they are all homophobes?

2) Rudolph is a metaphor for being black in 1960's America. He's the most athletic (first young reindeer able to fly?) and when Clarice takes a liking to him, what happens? His father comes over and says, "no Doe of mine is going to be seen with the likes of you"…

3) Yukon Cornelius is apparently a dead-beat dad running from child support payments or maybe even gambling debts? Whatever the reason, he's traveled all the way to the North Pole in search of silver and gold. Is it me or is an undertone of "bestiality" played out in the interaction between Yukon and Rudolph, Yukon and his dogs and Yukon and the Abominable Snowman?

4) The Abominable Snowman is political satire for how we cast out and feared the mentally handicapped in the 60s. Sad really.

5) Clarice was a doe-eyed doe with stripper eyelashes and a come-hither walk. Reindeer on the verge of the sexual revolution. Also, consider that her father was worried enough about appearances that he didn't want her seen with Rudolph but he could give a shit less when she wondered off into the blizzard with Rudolph's mom and was about to be eating by the retarded snow monster!

6) Donner, Rudolph's dad, showed such great shame at his son's deformity that he tried to cover it with black soot. Apparently, Rudolph's mom had been stepping out on Donner with another "red-nosed" woodland creature… oh the humanity! Also, when Santa tells Donner, "you should be ashamed! Too bad too, he had a nice liftoff" Donner just bows his head and walks off. No family pride? What a coward.

7) That brings us to Santa. What a bitch! He was a racist anorexic who hated non-conformists. When the elves practice their song, he acts as if his head is about to explode. Withdrawals possibly?

8) Mrs Claus was an enabler who possibly suffered from "Munchausen By Proxy" which would explain Santa's yo-yoing diet.

9) The Island of Misfit Toys was where all of the Bohemians were exiled to and King Moonracer was the Jack Kerouac of the North Pole.

10) The misfit toys themselves were portrayed as being drug-addled unintelligent toys. Why didn't Charlie just change his name? You can't sand those wheels down on the train or swap the jelly with water in the squirtgun? There wasn't anything wrong with Dollie either. I'm guessing she was a "fag-hag"? Not that there's anything wrong with that.

As messed up as all of this is, for a children's Christmas special, everything comes full circle and Rudolph is recognized as the savior, leading Santa around the world to save Christmas. Now that I think about it, maybe it's prophetic… Rudolph = Barack Obama?

I think this needs to be on a t-shirt...

Keep an eye on GetOffended.com, I think there'll be a shirt on there soon with the following line from a police report filed in West Virginia. Apparently, a couple of weeks ago in Jackson County, West Virginia, a lovely woman named Melissa Lee Williams had had-it-up-to-here with her love life and decided to go down four doors at the 177 Motor Inn to where her estranged husband was living (four doors down.... really? Is that even estranged?) and demand that he (or his cohort) perform oral sex on her. Right there. Oh, she also had a knife. Forgot to mention that part... The police report that was filed actually has the following line:

Melissa Williams then produced the said knife and pointed it towards Danny Williams and stated '...somebodyis going to eat my pussy or I'm going to cut your fucking throat...'"

The funniest part about the whole situation is that one of the guys, James Adam Watson (not her husband mind you) actually agreed to go down on this trailer park beauty queen.... but as the police report states:

As Watson approached Melissa Williams, he became overwhelmed by horrible vaginal odor emitting from Melissa Williams. Watson then declined to proceed any further because of the strong vaginal odor and ceased his involvement with her.

No wonder her husband had moved half way around the world... or at least four doors down. I'll bet any amount of money his new apartment was at least up wind. source - TheSmokingGun.com

It's a Black Ops world....

Ok, so it's November 9th... why am I wasting a few minutes typing here instead of pounding Diet Mountain Dew, calling in Care Packages and spending pointless hours building a one-of-a-kind-OCD-oh-my-God-he-has-WAY-too-much-time-on-his-hands Players Card tattoo? Because my thumbs are going to fall off and the PS3 in the office is about to melt through the entertainment center. Just a head's up to all of our loyal customers, if you have shirts on the way... it may be a couple days late... We need to make sure we all reach at least level 30 before we get back to any kind of work here at GetOffended.com... joking of course.

All joking aside, if you see "[.com]getoffended" on Black Ops in the middle of the night, just show your support and bend over in front of us... we need the headshots. Free stickers to anyone who sends us a message with their address and let's us take a few potshots at em in Free For All. Kristy sucks and she needs all the help she can get behind the Dual Shock.

Back to Mercenary Death Match...

Best Damn Butterbeer Recipe on the internet...

Well I finally got off my dead ass and posted the recipe for the best damn butterbeer possible without a trip to Universal Studios or a hallucinogen enriched trip to the "Three Broomsticks"... So unpack the mini van and sell your mescaline, here's the link to buttery bliss:

"Hi, My Name is Travis and I'm Addicted to Butterbeer"

Enjoy.

Butterbeer is the Devil

Recently, we visited Universal Studios in Orlando. We took our kids because we're all huge Harry Potter fans. Yep, I don't give a shit how sad that sounds... it's true.

The Harry Potter portion of the park was flat out awesome. We spent an entire day in a portion of the park about the size of a couple football fields. There's only a few rides and only a few things to do, but what they did offer was an overwhelming feeling of being right in the middle of the books... er I mean, 'movies'. Either way, it worked.

Anyway, we get there and are ooohhhing and aaahhhing everything when all of a sudden I spot a very large wooden keg / cart selling "Butterbeer". Those of you who are not in the know on Butterbeer... it's an alcoholic brew that is sold to minors in the Harry Potter series. Sounds awesome right? In the books it's described as tasting like shortbread cookies and ale. I HAVE to try this.

I stepped into line and ten minutes later asked for four Butterbeers. "Do you want those in souvenier mugs?" I was asked. Well hell's yeah. $42 later, I was sitting down outside the "Three Broomsticks" getting my first taste of the newest narcotic to be introduced to western civilization.

Butterbeer is better than crack. That says it all. At any given moment you could listen to conversations around the park, "What's in it?"... "I think we can make this at home."... "I taste butterscotch, what do you think?".... It was amazing, but at the same time verging on ridiculous.

After leaving the park, we spent about an hour online on our cell phones looking for the latest recipes to grace the web. Everything from mixing Butterscotch Schnapps to IBC Cream Soda to boiling sugar, whipping cream, and being 2 ingredients short of homemade nitroglycerin.

We traveled to Wal-Mart to get ingredients. First of all, not a single Wal-Mart within 10 miles of Universal had a single bottle of IBC Cream Soda... it's that addicting.

It's now been more than a month and we've been making it at least once a week... attempting to perfect our home brew. We've tried it all.... and.... we've done it. In our opinion, we've taken the best of everything and gotten as close as possible. Gordon Ramsey would be proud.

I'm getting the instructions together and will be unveiling it soon. STAY TUNED.

In summary, Butterbeer is the Devil.

I-75 Sucks Ass

I drive up and down I-75 everyday... through construction, around orange barrels, past "Terminator Jesus" (the artist formerly known as "Big Butter Jesus"), through construction, more construction, along side concrete dividers, through construction zones, past cows, avoiding broken down minivans, through more construction, breaking by Sheriffs, avoiding State Highway Patrols, fuck... more construction, honking at roadside-sheriff monitored-county inmate work crews, and through more fucking construction... are we seeing a pattern here?

At what point are we going to just chalk it all up and become agoraphobics or lose it and start road raging west-coast style with a .38?

I just recently returned from a trip farther south than I'm used to... Why is it, when you cross into Tennessee, Georgia and Florida, you can't drive 15 miles without being assaulted with a billboard advertising a "truck-stop" with strippers and a "spa-style massage"? Who are they kidding? The billboards should just say, "Nasty lot-lizards, sweaty trucker sex, and missing teeth, Right at Exit 98"...

And when did Georgia become the armpit of America? Besides the fact that it's the longest, most boring stretch of interstate, if you do have to stop for gas or food, be prepared to have your IQ sucked from your brain via osmosis by whatever inbred sap attempts to turn on your pump and sell you Peaches or Pecans. I'm not even going to get into the fact that the only dinner option for hundreds of miles centers around "Denny's" or "Waffle House" with the occasional "Huddle House" for good measure.

I hate Interstate 75.

Flowers...

Two friends, a blonde and a redhead, are walking down the street and pass a flower shop where the redhead happens to see her boyfriend buying flowers. She sighs and says, "Oh, crap, my boyfriend is buying me flowers again." The blonde looks quizzically at her and says," You don't like getting flowers?" The redhead says, "I love getting flowers, but he always has expectations after giving me flowers, and I just don't feel like spending the next three days on my back with my legs in the air." The blonde says, "Don't you have a vase?"

Remembering "Evil Dead"

I watched "Evil Dead" again the other night. I just happened to come across the DVD while moving offices. I thought I remembered the film, but I think the overall luster of the movie had worn off after the last 15 or 20 years since I'd last seen it.

A quintessential element in horror cinema (as is it's "sequel" Evil Dead II). Established both Bruce Campbell and Sam Riami as cult icons in the realm of 80's horror. Yes, the special effects are a bit cheesy, but considering the budget and the date, they are surprisingly well done. The story was fresh. The humor was off key and right on target for Bruce Campbell (who is "Ash" every single day of his life). The acting far exceeds expectations considering the film was funded by local investors (ie Dentists, and Lawyers) as well does the directing and cinematography. The sound is somewhat sub-par, but only because of the budget and date of production. The 5.1 Digital DVD release is a bump in the right direction, but the overall sound is still dated. But, this just adds to the overall charm of this vintage horror gem. If you have only seen Evil Dead II, don't miss the original. If you haven't seen either, rent them both tonight.

Adventures with Trash

I have to tell this story because it's so surreal and too funny not to pass along.

Yesterday I am at the office and I get a phone call from my wife. She is obviously upset and in need of assistance, whether it be emotional or physical is yet to be determined. Here is how the conversation began…

I answered the phone with, "Hello."

"I hope you are having a good day because mine is shit…" she says.

See, I could tell she was upset right away. "What happened?"

This is where the conversation took a very weird turn… "You know that TV you sat out with the trash, well a lady pulled up in her car today and went to take it. I hate people taking stuff from our trash, but I figured it was 'trash' after all, so what the hell. I yelled to her as I was walking next door, "Go ahead, you can take it. It still works."

"Ok," I replied, "so what's wrong?"

I think I should explain a little here. I am in the middle of a summer remodeling project and had accumulated a large amount of trash this week which included and old 27" console television. Yesterday was trash pick up day so our front sidewalk was covered in a couple dozen extra large sized lawn trash bags, cardboard and, of course, the 27" television.

"She looks up at me," my wife continued, "and she was obviously off her rocker." Apparently, she had a crazy eye or something which frightened my wife. "She puts the TV in her trunk then turns around and tells me that her daughter just left her because she had a baby and she is now all alone and doesn't have any money. The closer I got, I could tell she was either drunk or stoned out of her gourd. I'm thinking, 'Holy shit, this lady is fucking nuts.' Then as I get closer I notice she has a bunch of trash bags in her backseat so I get a little closer to investigate. Sure enough she has three of our trash bags in our backseat. What the fuck?"

At this point, I have a pretty vivid picture in my mind's eye of the situation, but I keep my mouth shut in fear of giggling into the phone. "Go on," I urge my wife.

"Well, I turn around and say, 'What the hell lady?' when I realize she is now ripping out the trash bags in the yard and going through them." My wife was getting pretty excited in her recounting of the events…

"I screamed, 'Jesus fucking christ lady, what the hell do you think you are doing?' At this point, she turns around and starts screaming back that she was going through my garage sale stuff… I told her we didn't have a garage sale! She says that there are prices on stuff and shows me a sheet of price stickers that you threw away. I think they were for work. I don't know so I grabbed them out of her hands and started pulling the trash bags out of her car…"

"Were you polite or pissed?" I asked without thinking.

"Polite?! Hell no, this crazy bitch was drunk and God knows what she was doing with our trash.. did you have any sensitive material in there? That's it, we're getting a shredder for the house today. Anyway, the neighbor comes out because of all of the screaming and tells me that I shouldn't talk to this lady that way because she was obviously a fry short of a happy meal. That pissed me off and I told him that it was 'nunya" and to get his ass back in his house. He said he called the cops already. Just then the trash truck comes around the corner and the biggest, scariest black man I've ever seen gets out of the garbage truck and says in the deepest voice I've ever heard, 'Miss, do you know this lady?' Then he points at the crazy lady ripping open the rest of the trash bags."

At this point I had to cover the mouth piece on the phone… no way around it, I was losing it.
"'No!' I screamed then realized that he was trying to help. I politely apologized to him and told him she was stealing my trash. He didn't say a word, just stood there taking it all in."

"I turned around and told the lady that the police were coming and that she needed to pick up the mess she was making because it wasn't fair to the garbage man, who was now leaning against the back of his truck enjoying the show. She drops all the trash in the yard, then starts yelling at me about being a bitch and that I can't pick and choose who comes to my garage sale. That's discrimination! This is when the garbage man starts crackin' up and tells the lady that she needs to leave before the police come and take her away in a padded van."

Then my wife went silent on the phone. "Honey, are you ok?" I asked.

"That crazy bitch just stands there for a minute, then calmly walks over to her trunk, reaches in, grabs the TV, lifts it up as high as she could then looks at me and says, 'You can keep your TV.'" My wife held for a dramatic pause… "Then she dropped it right there in the middle of the cul-de-sac. The TV literally exploded and glass went everywhere. I just watched as she shut her trunk then pulled away. Everyone was speechless."

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed. This was priceless. I wish I'd have been there.

"I spent the next hour, first helping the garbage man load everything up. He was so sweet.. I think I am going to write a letter to his boss. Anyway, then I was out in the street for what felt like forever picking up and sweeping up glass, plastic and TV shrapnel. I mean it EXPLODED!" Then she just sighed.

After a few moments of silence, I said, "I told you you should have tried to the sell that TV on Craig's List."

She hung up on me.

Little Johnny's big story

Little Johnny (this little shit's in every story it seems) was at the playground with his new baby sitter. He looked over his shoulder and saw his Daddy's station wagon pull into the parking lot across the street. Curious, he snuck out of the playground and ran over to where his Daddy's car was now pulling into the access road next to the woods where the creepy men pay homeless guys to spit shine their zippers (at least that's what he had heard his Daddy tell his uncle Bill). He followed the station wagon into the woods where he say his Aunt Jane get out of the car too! Little Johnny watched his Daddy and Aunt Jane in a passionate embrace. After a few minutes, Little Johnny was so excited that he ran straight home to tell his Mommy what he had seen.

"Mommy, I was at the playground and I saw Daddy's car go into the woods with Aunt Jane. I went back to look and he was giving Aunt Jane a big kiss, and then he helped her take off her shirt. Then Aunt Jane helped Daddy take his pants off, then Aunt Jane...'

At this point Little Johnny's Mommy cut him off and said, 'Johnny, this is such an interesting story, let's save the rest until Daddy gets home and we are eating supper. I want to see the look on Daddy's face when you tell him all about it tonight..'

At the dinner table that evening, Mommy asked Little Johnny to tell his story. Little Johnny started his story, "Ok, here's what I was telling Mommy earlier. Today I was at the playground and I saw Daddy's car go into the woods with Aunt Jane. I went back to look and Daddy was giving Aunt Jane a big kiss, then he helped her take off her shirt. Then Aunt Jane helped Daddy take his pants off. Then Aunt Jane and Daddy started doing the same thing that Mommy and Uncle Bill used to do when Daddy was at work and they thought I was outside playing in the sandbox…"

Just then Mommy fainted and Daddy started choking on his meatloaf.

The Hippie and the Nun - a love story...

Every day this hippie gets on the bus at his normal stop and sits directly behind the bus driver. He plays with his hackie sack and rides quietly to the downtown stop where he gets off and hangs with his other hippie friends. He never says anything…

One day a young nun gets on the bus and sits in the seat opposite the hippie. She bows her head and rides quietly as well. She then gets off at the stop just before the hippie. This occurrence repeats every day from this day forth.

Before long, the hippie starts to take notice of the nun. She was really quite pretty and very innocent looking. The hippie's fascination grew until it was obvious how much he admired her.

One day, as soon as the nun exits, the bus driver looks up in the rear view mirror and says, "Hey buddy, she's pretty cute huh?"

"Huh?" replies the hippie.

"That pretty little nun, she's cute huh? I've been noticing you watchin' her for a while."

"Yeah, she's pretty." The hippie just looked at his hackie sack.

"Why donchya talk to her then?" asked the bus driver.

"She wouldn't want to tal k to me," said the hippie as he got off at his stop.

The next day, the bus driver watched the hippie when he got on the bus. "Ask her out on a date today. Do it, seriously," he said as he looked up in the rear view.

"Honestly dude, it's not like I wanna go out for cheese and wine or anything. It's, I don't know, a little more 'carnal' than that if you know what I mean? She gets my motor running for some reason. Kinda weird huh? Must be the habit." The hippie must have been a little stoned that day.

The bus driver smiled and just nodded.

After the nun and come and gone, the bus driver turned around in his seat and looked at the hippie. "Buddy, here's what you do. You wanna get in her pants right?" The hippie nodded emphatically. "Every Friday night, that pretty little nun goes up to the cemetery on the hill and prays to the statue of Jesus on the cross for a few hours… if you were to go up there and come out all dressed up like Jesus…" The bus driver flipped the hippie's long dirty locks. "I betya she'd do just about anything…" The bus driver winked at the hippie.

The hippie didn't say anything. He just sat there and thought about the possibilities.

That Friday night, the hippie sat down his one-hitter and resolved to take the bus driver's advice. What did he have to lose? He got all Jesus'd up and headed for the cemetery on the hill.

When he got there, sure enough, the nun was kneeling in front of the statue. He took a deep breathe and walked out with his arms spread wide. He was dressed in ripped khakis and an old white tee, complete with his Birkenstocks and the hackie sack in his pocket. "Uh, hello my child. I am Jesus and I have been watching you for, um, quite some time now, my child," he said in a glorious fashion.

The nun looked up at the hippie and raised her hands to the sky, "Oh thank you Lord! My prayers have been answered! What would my savior wish of me? I am here to humbly serve in his name." She bowed at the hippie's sandals.

"Rise, uh, up, my child. I wish to pass along my good will through another messiah. I want you to have my baby." He grabbed her shoulders and raised her to her feet.

"A miracle baby? That is so wonderful. Am I pregnant? Is it another miracle conception?" she asked.

"No, only my father can, um, do it that way. Me, since I'm only Jesus, I have to do it old fashioned like. Missionary, [he chuckled] style. Get it?" The hippie brought the nun in for an embrace.

"This is wonderful! I am so excited," she gushed. Then she looked up at Jesus. "But that means I won't be a virgin anymore. Can we do it a different way so I could still be a virgin? Maybe anally?"

The hippie nearly shit a brick right there. "Hell yeah! Er, I mean, yes, my child. We can do that."

The nun simply turned around and lifted her skirt up. In the moonlight, the hippie knelt behind the nun and spent the next 20 minutes "taking care of business".

When they were done, they fell in a heap on the grass. The hippie waited a few moments and then turned to the nun, "I have a confession, my child. I'm not Jesus… I'm the hippie!"

The nun turned to the hippie and said, "I have a confession too!" She pulled her mask off and said, "Ha ha! I'm the bus driver!"

Basketball is NOT a sport

I hate basketball. In fact, with the sole exception of soccer, I hate team sports in general. But (and that's a big BUT), my disgust for basketball far surpasses all other US based popular team sports combined. Baseball is the most boring, unintelligent sport there is. No wonder it's America's pastime. Football (not to be confused with soccer in the US) is a pathetic waste of time. Football is ilke driving in rush hour traffic. Hurry and then wait. Hurry and then wait. The clock stops every few minutes. Everyone on the field is so pumped full of steroids and hyped up on endorsements and their contracts that the game is considered secondary to the theatrics. Oh and they are so caked with padding and protective gear that they could go into Iraq in search of WMDs right after the game.

I hate basketball. Basketball is a team sport that is so biased toward genetics that it shouldn't even be a sport, it should be a circus act. At the height of the hoop, only athletes with a vertical jump, no weight and freakish height are able to play at a professional level. Of course there are a few exceptions to this rule, but they're even more freakish in my opinion. The point is, most athletes can bulk up in a gym or take enough supplements to be able to play football. Anyone can play baseball and even break records with a little help (McGwire…), but to be able to compete at a professional level in basketball you'd have to have your bones stretched or government genetic experimentation a'la the Halo Spartan program.

The next time you find yourself catching a game at the bar in T.G.I.Friday's, think about this… is it a game or a freak show?

I'll stick with soccer thank you very much.