Can't a guy take a piss?

I was trying to take a piss in the school bathroom a few days before the wonderful school play in which I have a role.


I looked up and saw this poster...


and my piss-flow stopped cold.


You know how hard it is to piss when you see your own face looking back at you like it's going to kill you?

It's fucking difficult!

Quote of the Day

(trying to read aloud in a classroom full of noisy seniors)
Hey! (pause) HEY! (angrily) HEY!
(All eyes are on me, including the teacher's.)
Do you know how hard it is to read with you guys being so damned loud?
(crickets)
It's fucking difficult!
(after making eye contact with everyone in the room, I sat down and continued reading like nothing had happened)

FCA

My friend Danny, the hardcore Christian, told me one day in computer science class that he was going to an FCA meeting.


"FCA," I asked. "What manner of acronym is that?" I tried a few combinations that would have fit the abbreviation:

• Furry Chocolate Aardvarks
• Fallen Cartographers' Association
• For Christ's Appendix
• Fuck Cats' Asses
• Fearsome Crabs, Attack!
• Faggots Called Anthony
• Faux-Crack Addicts
  

That was about where Danny interrupted and told me that FCA actually stands for the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. He invited me to the meeting, but while I am a fellow, I am neither an athlete nor a Christian, so I politely declined.

He didn't get it, so I then rudely declined.

A bad time to own a Grand Am, I guess.

I got my car washed a couple of days ago. But then, (just my luck) it rained mud the next day.

So it was back to the car wash again last night.


When I pulled up to the payment screen, a little warning sticker caught my eye.


Three exclamation points? This must be important!!!

This seems like an invitation for a lawsuit.

"Your sign clearly says that you are responsible for damages to every car except Pontiac Grand Ams."

I wonder what prompted this.

New Year in New York

Over Christmas break, I went to upstate New York to see my mom.

It was rather cold there.

And her fake Christmas tree was ravaged by the newest of her many cats

She doesn't have as many cats as I do, but she's getting there.


While I was there, we went to a skiing/tubing resort called Titus Mountain. I nearly froze my right hand off taking this video, but I did it!



Better videos soon.

H-E-B

Texas is an odd state. Texans take pride in being different, even if it means being ass-backward. They have a chain of grocery stores that exists nowhere else in the US: H-E-B.

Contrary to the current slogan, H-E-B does not stand for "Here Everything's Better," but for the name of its founder, Howard Edward Butt.

(Heheh, "Butt.")

I work at the H-E-B down the street from my house as a CSA. They tell us that CSA stands for Customer Service Assistant, but I have a feeling they're sugar-coating another acronym.

CSA = Come in every weekend and do whatever inane taSks the lazy-ass clerks assign you All day

Anyway, I went to work yesterday and had to use the crappy customer bathroom.


You know those "employees must wash hands before returning to work" signs?

It's missing from the bathroom, and in its place is this placeholder:

The point is to alert maintenance that the decal goes here, but wouldn't it be easier to just cross out the word "decal?" They've already written out the important part of the message.

Well, after that, I gathered shopping carts in the parking lot.


Sometimes, putzing around the parking lot, you notice funny bumper stickers, and the occasional Jesus fish decal. In my opinion, a Jesus fish is equivalent to a public proclamation of one's lunacy. But yesterday I saw a variation on this idea. No, not those dumb Darwin fish.


Satan fish!


And not even three parking spaces away,...


...another Satan fish! Amazing! If anyone finds these, buy me a set. I'll seriously buy them off of you.

The Joy of Canada

Canada is not a fun place to go late on the night of New Year's Eve. Not only are the signs weird,


(CAUTION: Bowling)

...it's also really cold. The night I was there with my mom, it got down to -10°. For all you Imperial Measurement System n00bs, that's 10 or 20 in Fahrenheit.

Speaking of Fahrenheit:

PD: It's supposed to get down to about 1° tonight.
David: 1?! [pause, followed by realisation] Oh, hah.
PD: What?
David: I thought you were just going to comment on the temperature, but then you turned it into a joke. "One degree." Hah.
PD: No joke. Google says it's getting down to one tonight.
David: I heard it was 32, PD. One is awfully low.
PD: 32? Oh! Fahrenheit!
David: Oh, I forgot you use Celsius.
PD: David, have I ever given you the "why Celsuis is better than Fahrenheit" talk?
David: No.
PD: [putting hand on David's shoulder] Well, David, you see, when a man loves a woman...

[five minutes later]

PD: ...And that's why Celsius is better than Fahrenheit.
David: [shuddering from sexual-innuendo overload] But the only time in that whole speech that you mentioned Celsius or Fahrenheit was just now and five minutes ago.

The Name Game

Since I scored in the 98th percentile on the PSAT, every private college in the god-damned universe wants to sent me their pamphlet.

But apparently the "O" in "Robert" wasn't clear enough on the test form.


Every private college in the god-damned universe now thinks I'm Rbert.




Then there are cases where you just have to go "What the fuck?"

"Cainzos" looks nothing like "Cavazos."

Quote of the Day

I have a photogenic memory.
-Stephen B

Well, dear readers, the blog is back. Relish it. Revel in it. Rejoice for it. Just like the ones that come daily to stare and point. Speaking of which, if you live in the area, go see the play that Jake and I are in on March 27th, The Insanity of Mary Girard. We perform in the Randolph HS auditorium at 7pm.