Paris Hilton and Other Scary Things

Has anybody else noticed the lack of scary movies on television this week? This is supposed to be the time of year when we have the opportunity to watch our favorite scary movie favorites like Friday the 13th, Poltergeist, and Freddy Got Fingered. This is the week when you should hear fake Halloween adjectives like ‘spooktacular’ and ‘fright-tastic’ describe upcoming events. I can remember growing up and not being able to turn on the TV without running into a Dracula movie or seeing somebody hacked into itty-bitty bits around this time of year. This year I’ve actually been searching for scary things to watch, and so far my search has yielded a strong desire to punch my couch, and nothing more.

Stupid couch.

I could start on a rant about how Halloween has become too sissy in recent years, and how the corporate commercialization has turned its collective head away from ghouls and goblins and instead begun to market things like a new Paris Hilton Halloween Special on Fox, complete with advertisements for a new politically correct costume for all ages that is family fun and environmentally safe, rather than scary. I won’t even begin to discuss the lack of blood smears and cobwebs around this office….please don’t get me started. I’m THIS close to going to a party shop today and buying some plastic spiders and skeletons to decorate my cubicle with just to piss off the prissy, goody-two-shoes* coworkers that surround me in this hell hole.

I won’t rant about corporate commercialization, or discuss the lack of spooky decorations. I'll let my favorite squirrel Foamy handle that. Today I choose instead to focus on the lack of adequate scary movies being offered up to us on this pre-Halloween week, and why it is making me punch my stupid couch.

Remember the Great Pumpkin? Sure, you do. When I was young, The Charlie Brown Halloween Special was one of the signs that Halloween was coming soon. I haven’t seen that special for years, and last night as I was flipping channels and punching my stupid couch, I ran across the tail end of it. Oh, spooktacular Halloweeney joy erupted from within my inner child as I watched those goofy kids sitting in the pumpkin patch at night, waiting for the arrival of The Great Pumpkin. As always, watching the special was my signal that it was time to get serious about Halloween.

So last night became a Halloween entertainment quest for Jen and I.

This is when I began to notice the utter lack of anything spooky or freaky or ghoulishly terrific on the television, and I began to hear that little cynic inside my head start to shout out curses at parent’s groups and religious zealots who think Halloween is a Satan holiday, so they pull holiday programming to help save our children. Ignoring the little voice, I continued to flip channels in search of something that would help keep me in the Halloween mood…to no avail.

I was thwarted. There was nothing scary to watch, and the thought of another night of sitcoms and courtroom dramas filled me with enough dread to host two of my own Halloween specials at the same time, with dancing and cake. Refusing to admit defeat, I grabbed my keys and Jen and I headed to my local rip-off video store to rent some good scary movies to help quell our desire for spooky fun.

Once again, I was brutally rebuffed. My choices ranged from Anacondas 2 to Mosquito Boy, or some such shit. Where were the good scary movies? We asked the guy working the counter if he could point us to the “good horror movie” section, only to be told that they didn’t have one. We even asked for Psycho…a great scary movie…a classic. They didn’t fucking have it.

Somebody shoot me.

We settled on the remake of The Amityville Horror and headed home to watch our movie in peace and spooky quiet. Expecting a crap film, I poured myself a bourbon and settled down for what would most likely be another boring movie night during a crappy week of non-Halloween entertainment sitting on my stupid couch.

We watched it. I peed myself. Twice. On my couch. While screaming. Like a little girl. The movie was freaky, spooktacular, scary Halloween fun that made me a kid again in the sense that I called my mom and asked her to come over and tuck me in. With the light on. Don’t turn that fucking light off, mom or I'll fucking kill you. Crack the door, too. Shut the closet. Give me the shotgun. Holy crap that movie was creepy.

I’m not saying it was the scariest movie ever made, nor am I saying that it was the best horror film I’ve ever seen…I’m simply saying that I peed myself twice on my couch while screaming like a little girl as I watched it. I urge you to draw your own conclusions.

So my quest for scary Halloween entertainment was not in vain; I scared myself silly and went to bed being wary of noises and shadows…good times!

Happy Almost Halloween.
Happy Wednesday.
Happy oh my fucking God what the fuck is that in the corner with a knife?! Ahhhhhhhhhh!


This is really scary
So is this



*I apologize for using the phrase "goody-two-shoes", but I could think of no other group of words that would adequately describe the situation.
**If you didn't check out the Foamy Halloween rant cartoon, you really should do that.

Crazy Rambling Time!

Today I'm going to try something different. I'm going to try this thing where I type out random crap and useless information as it comes to me, in my gargantuan cranium. Some of it may make sense, and some of it may not make sense. But either way, it should be an entertaining read. If it’s not, then we’ll all know that this won’t become a new Shanshu staple.

Ok let’s begin. For some reason, on the way to work today I had the song from Mortal Kombat in my head, and I have no idea how it got there. Also, on the way to work yesterday, I was listening to the radio and managed to catch Ice, Ice Baby and The Humpty Dance in a back-to-back retro request hour. I couldn’t help but get jiggy with it in my car as I attempted to ignore the people watching me.

Sometimes I wonder if people are watching me that are dead. Then I start to wonder if I am watching myself, as I am dead. You see, if you look at the universe as it probably is, which is a state of time being a relative and ignorable event, you can theorize that after we die, we will no longer be linear, time-based beings…but all time beings, all at once. If this is the case, then I wonder if my dead, timeless self is watching my present self RIGHT NOW. Then I wave.

I really like the little envelopes that pop up in the bottom right corner of the computer screen, letting me know that new mail has just arrived. It makes me feel happy that somebody is taking the time to send something to me. Then I begin to wonder who it is, and try to guess. 80% of the time, I am correct. I don’t know where I got the 80% figure…I just made it up. It could be a completely different number.

I like Halloween, a lot. I’ve always liked it, and not just the candy thing. That never was that exciting to me, to be honest. I just liked going around and going to strange houses and dressing up and being different for a change. I like it now, because it is such a sexy holiday. SO SEXY…some of the outfits girls wear on Halloween are border-whore outfits but none of us care because it is Halloween and anything goes. You could see a nerd librarian girl dressed up like a hooker on Halloween, and that makes it a sexy holiday.

What happened to the show Dead Like Me? I wasn’t a huge fan of it, but I watched a lot of the episodes and I thought the premise was pretty entertaining, but I just realized I haven’t seen it in a long time. Speaking of TV shows, mine are starting to piss me off. Lost can suck my nuts…seriously. I think this is my last season. Prison Break is still good, but it’s starting to get cheesy.

Shhh! It’s quiet. Yeah, a little too quiet.
This is easy. Yeah, a little too easy.
Look! There’s Raph! Yeah….a little too Raph.

That was the most obscure TMNT reference ever. I hope at least one person picked up on it. If not, then I feel like a complete dork. I'm not even sure which movie came from...the second one, I think. I remember Vanilla Ice was in it, as well. Creepy. That's the second time I've thought about him today. That's 2 times, too many.

Now I’m thinking about dead people watching me, and how sexy Halloween is. So I’m both turned on, and freaked out at the same time. Reminds me of my first time. WOW. I have not that about that for a long time…my first time. It wasn’t that great, but the first time never is, they say. It was just the fact that I had finally had sex. The big S. I’m pretty sure I lasted a whole 15 seconds and that might be an exaggeration, but I’m not sure. The girl was weird and I didn’t even like her that much…but she was willing to sleep with me, and so that counted for something. Looking back, I should have stayed home and watched TV.

Chili’s has much better boneless buffalo wings than Applebee’s. I’m not even hungry right now, so I’m not sure where that came from. Damn my head is full of random crap, isn’t it?

I think I should stop, now. It’s getting pretty crowded up in my brain, and it’s starting enjoy this whole random thing a little too much. A little too Raph. I need to stop now.

Happy Tuesday. I’m going to start saying that everyday until somebody says it back to me. Then I’ll stop for a week, and probably start it up again because it’ll be funny in a strange, delayed way. People like delays.


PS: Go to Google Images and type in Ice, Ice Baby and see what the first result is. NOT what I expected to get. Talk about random.

Comedy Shows, Makeovers, and Smut

Well, here we are again…another Monday is upon us. A new week has sprung up and replaced the wonderful happiness of the weekend. While I am never in the mood for Mondays, and they usually cause me great distress...at least it’s not cold outside, and that helps to keep me sane.

Oh, wait…it IS fucking cold outside. Happy friggin Monday, indeed. Bah.

I trust that you all had a pleasant weekend filled with drunken debauchery, group bunny, and sinful amounts of takeout food? If not, then at the very least I sincerely hope that you had the chance to do things that brought you joy. As for myself, I spent most of the weekend at home, doing chores and relaxing and working off the horrible hangover that was produced from Friday night’s activities.

What’s that, you say? You’d like to know more? Well, kiddies…grab some carpet and tie your shoes, because I’ll tell you more about my exciting Friday night if you are good.

Friday night, we all went out to a comedy troupe in Lawrence (home of the University of Kansas) called The Victor Continental Show. It’s a comedy show filled with sketch comedy, drinking games, and local humor. The host of the show calls himself Victor Continental, and his character is very similar to a drunken, horny Ricky Ricardo. It’s a good time, and a chance to get wasted during an interactive show while watching some pretty humorous skits about anything from Evolution in Kansas, to strippers with nipple stickers. Good times, indeed.

Speaking of the show, I just found out that my girlfriend is a mini-celebrity because of last year’s performance. As I said, some of the show is interactive, and sometimes Victor brings people up on stage for various comedic reasons. Sometimes he even brings people up on stage for a combination of comedic and sexual reasons. My girlfriend is one such example.

I won’t bore you with details…since it’s much easier to just let you watch the video!!! She’s only in the first minute of the video, but feel free to watch more of the show, if you are so inclined. Jen got to get up on stage and receive a free shirt for doing nothing more than showing her ass and being a little bit smutty. Not in a tacky way, though…in a very cute, sexy way. I’m proud of her.

*sigh*

Anyway, the show was great and we all had a really good time. I managed to drink way too much again, and that caused problems for me later on. We stayed up late and had fun and I got home late and got a chance to make up for all the regurgitation I missed out on last weekend, so that was good. Saturday was spent in recover mode, and Sunday was reserved for laundry and apartment cleanup.

Not the most exciting weekend, but at least I had a blast on Friday night. Sadly, Jen didn’t get up on stage again...but I did see a drunken girl in a cocktail dress pull her dress all the way up to show her ass to the crowd; so that was a good time. Later on, I saw the same poor girl outside on the curb with her legs spread open while she smoked a cigarette and had a very drunken conversation with her female friend, who was completely oblivious to her friend’s new found desire for attention.

Gotta love college towns.


Blog Makeover:

Some of you may have noticed the new look of my blog! Some of you may not know what the hell I am talking about because you are too busy soaking up my wit and knowledge to worry about things like templates. In any case, I have a new blog template. Thanks so much to Cricket for helping me out with my new look. When I say “helping out” of course I mean “doing the whole thing herself”. She came up with the design and made the changes and I think she did a great job! Now you can all be jealous because I got one of the new Ultimate Blog Makeovers! Thanks again, Cricket!


Monday’s joke of the day:

There were three men stranded on an island in the middle of the ocean. One day the island natives surrounded them, unhappy to see Americans on their island. The angry chief gave them a choice. "Death or unga-bunga?" He shouted.
The first man really didn't want to die, so he chose unga-bunga. The entire tribe then bent him over a fallen tree, and butt-fucked him.
The second man said, "Man, I don't want to sound gay or anything, but I definitely don't want to die either. Okay....unga-bunga." The entire tribe bent him over a fallen tree and butt-fucked him.
The third man, disgusted by his friends' decisions, shouted, "Death!" To that, the chief shouted, "Death by unga-bunga!"

Random Blog Post Using the Term "Bunny":

Amanda's Blog (check out item #2)



Happy Monday!!!!

PS: Anybody know what happnened to Ashley? Her site is still down...

The First Time I Was on ESPN Sportscenter

All of us have embarrassing stories. For some of us, they are simply interesting and humorous anecdotes used to amuse our friends at cocktail parties and break the ice during social situations. You get together with a group of your friends, you have a few beers… and before you know what’s going on, somebody at the table is commenting on the time that you ended up in your underwear on top of the roof singing the Oscar-Meyer Wiener song. These stories are a chance for us to remember the past, and to laugh at ourselves. We enjoy telling stories, even the ones that embarrass us…because some stories are just too good to stay hidden within the confines of our intricate minds.

I have one such story.

I have often said, that my freshman year in college was one of the best years of my life. It is my opinion that this story will help to show why I believe that to be the case. That year was filled with new experiences, both good and bad. Sometimes, the levels at which I succeeded in certain areas were only rivaled by the levels at which I failed. Freshman year can be hard on many students, but at times I felt I was having an easier time, than most. I loved being at school and I loved doing the things I did to be a part of it. The emotions and memories of that time seem so surreal to me now; as if they had happened to somebody else. Certain memories, however, are so clear in my mind it is as if they happened yesterday.

This is one such memory.

The year was 1996, my freshman year at the University of Kansas. It was when the weather was still warm, and the grass was still green. It was time for another home football game for the KU Jayhawks, and the atmosphere was buzzing with the excitement of college athletics. People were streaming into the stadium, their hands holding flags and beers. Families, students, alumni, sportscasters….the crowd seemed to get larger and larger with each minute that passed as I stood nearby watching. This was college at its finest, when the students ruled the school and not the other way around. We were the masters of our domain, and this was our time, and I was a part of it.

I was a yell-leader that year, and I loved every moment that I was a part of the squad. It was my way of being a part of something that was beyond control, beyond explanation. I was a part of something so special, so untouched by reality, that it could not be washed away by any flood or struck down by any wrathful god. As college students, our time was immortal, and we were warriors of our own destinies. For universities like KU, school spirit is not a subtle suggestion, it is a way of life. It was our religion. Game days were our Sabbath, our holy day…and I was a part of it.

The weather that day was perfect for the explosive emotional drama that was college athletics. The air was crisp and clean, and the skies were deep blue. The stadium had already begun to fill, and as I prepared for the game with the rest of the squad I began to get excited. I had already begun to get the nervous feeling in my stomach, as the moment when I would step out onto that field approached. Soon it was time, and I was running out into the stadium and cheering along with the rest of the school as our football team came charging onto the field of battle. Another college football game had begun.

The game itself was the same as always, which is to say it was chaotic and full of life. The stands erupted with each new play, and each first down brought out new life in us as we willed our team to victory with yells and cheers. The energy around me was overpowering as floods of emotional waves crashed onto me with each new cheer and back flip. As our team prepared to score its first touchdown of the day, the yell-leaders prepared for the lap of victory.

The lap of victory involved 6 yell-leaders and 6 flags. Each man would carry a flag with its own letter, spelling out K-A-N-S-A-S. We would then wave the flags above our heads, and run around the stadium track in a celebratory ritual that caused the students to erupt into louder cheering. It was almost time for our first victory lap, and we were ready.

As it turned out, we were not going to get a touchdown on that drive, and so humbly we went back to our cheer line to continue to rally the students and create excitement in the crowd. Suddenly, the stadium burst into applause as our team managed to get into the end-zone for its first touchdown of the game, and an un-expected one at that. My coach yelled for us to grab the flags, and run the lap of victory while we were still young. We each bolted towards the flags on the ground, and grabbed them quickly as we began to run around the track to the cheers of the stadium. I grabbed my flag and started after the man in front of me, holding my letter A proudly above my head. I was the 5th letter in the group, and so I was the 2nd man to start running the victory lap.

As we ran around the track, the cheers of my classmates rang in my ears in a deafening roar of college spirit. I puffed out my chest and held my head high, and I ran holding onto my flag as the wind whipped against it, trying to pull it from my grasp. I tightened my grip, and continued to run, keeping in line with the man in front of me and watching the faces of the crowd as I ran by them.

Soon I began to notice that many of the faces were not cheering, but laughing. They pointed and laughed and took pictures. The roar of the crowd filled the stadium as we ran along holding our flags, and yet the more people I looked at as I passed, the more I saw laughter and pointing. I began to feel naked in a room full of strangers, and suddenly the need to drop my flag and run away began to grow within me. As we neared completion of our victory lap, I saw my coach running towards us, waving her arms wildly and yelling something. The noise in the stadium was too much, and so we could not make out her words. As she got closer we began to hear parts of what she was saying, and from the tone to her voice, she was not happy. As she ran up to us, she yelled so loudly and gestured so perfectly, there was no doubt as to what she was now saying to us:

“You idiots! Drop the flags, quick! Don’t you morons realize you ran out of order? You spelled it wrong! Goddammit we’re on television right now…everybody is watching this! Drop the flags! You spelled Kansas wrong!”

I slowly looked up at my flag, and felt my stomach turn upside-down inside my belly. I was not holding the letter A, as I should have been. I was holding the letter S. Somehow, the flags for man #5 (me) and man #4 had be switched in the confusion, and we had effectively spelled out the word K-A-N-A-S-S for the entire stadium to see.

KANASS. We had run around the track triumphantly displaying flags that not only spelled our state wrong, but included a profanity at the same time. Everybody in the school who was watching that game saw me holding the wrong flag. Everybody who was watching the game on TV saw me holding the wrong flag. I spelled Kansas wrong, and even though it wasn’t my mistake, the blame fell on me nonetheless. I was “Kanass” for the next 3 years in college. My fraternity never let me live it down, much to their amusement. My mother was at that football game, taking pictures and being proud of her little Kanass idiot. My friends laughed at me, along with the entire stadium that day.

Later on, I heard tell that our little mishap had ended up on ESPN Sportscenter…college bloopers and blunders of the week, or some such thing. I never saw the broadcast, but to this day I look back on the whole thing, and laugh. I was on ESPN, and not many of my friends can say that. The story has become a mini-legend within my social group, and I’m sure one day I will proudly tell my children the story of the time their father was on ESPN for one brief, shining moment. I was KANASS the immortal.

It was just another reason that we were immortal in those days, and why my freshman year at KU was one of the best of my life. I don’t look back on that day with any sense of dread or embarrassment, but of fondness. That day was a great day.

Of course, that was only the first time I was on ESPN’s Sportscenter…but we’ll save that story, for another time.

Joke of the Day

A Marine stationed in Afghanistan recently received a "Dear John" letter from his girlfriend back home. It read as follows:

Dear Ricky,
I can no longer continue our relationship. The distance between us is just too great. I must admit that I have cheated on you twice, since you've been gone, and it's not fair to either of us. I'm sorry. Please return the picture of me that I sent to you.
Love, Becky

The Marine, with hurt feelings, asked his fellow Marines for any snapshots they could spare of their girlfriends, sisters, ex-girlfriends, aunts, cousins etc. In addition to the picture of Becky, Ricky included all the other pictures of the pretty gals he had collected from his buddies. There were 57 photos in that envelope....along with this note:

Dear Becky,
I'm so sorry, but I can't quite remember who you are. Please take your picture from the pile, and send the rest back to me.
Take Care, Ricky

Philosophy of Die Hard and HWD

I had a good weekend. Nothing uber-exciting happened, for the most part. Sadly to say, there was no group bunny or anything that might come close to resembling group bunny. But I did have a lot of fun, and that is all that matters. I'm not too thrilled to be back at work already, but at least I'm not depressed about it this morning and that is saying something. I've decided that with my good mood, I shall include some new Shanshu Lists. I hope everybody has a great Monday, and enjoy.

Weekend by the Numbers:

-Number of times hung-over this weekend: 2
-Number of times somebody threw up in my toilet this weekend: 3
-Number of times I threw up in my toilet this weekend: 0
-Number of different breasts touched: 3
-Number of hors' dourves eaten: 1
-Number of times somebody mixed red and white wine into my glass: 2
-Number of paper napkin flowers created: 3
-Number of girls seduced by paper napkin flowers: 0
-Number of alien anal probes: 0
-Amount of time spent recovering from "the night before": 12.3 hours
-Amount of time spent sleeping: 14 hours total
-Average age of women at Friday's party: 42
-Average age of women at Saturday's party: 22
-Number of times I was flirted with this weekend: 0 (Can you believe that?)
-Number of embarrassing stories told: 2
-Number of times Pizzle drunkenly said "I love you, man" : 3
-Number of times Pizzle drunkenly said "I love you, man" to a potted plant: 1
-Amount of time spent laughing about Chaos Theory: 37 minutes
-Number of times I was woken up by a drunk person: 3
-Amount of fun I had this weekend: Oodles

Other Fun Weekend Facts:

-At one point this weekend, a guy I did not know came up to me and proceeded to tell me what the best part of his wife giving birth was. Apparently, this man felt that it was very exciting that his wife took her clothes off in a room with a nurse. He then told me that it was "the closest any man will ever get to 2 naked women in the same room" while slapping my back in an inappropriately affectionate way. I tried very hard to keep my mouth shut about all of the group bunny this poor bastard was missing. It was all I could do to keep myself from blurting out, "That's the closest you will ever get to your wife and another woman, pal. Now back up, because you're standing on my dick."
-I got much too wasted at Friday's party. At one point, I actually began to tell embarrassing stories about myself, with absolutely no coercion from anybody else.
-There are 2 containers of leftover Chinese food in the fridge right now with no food in them... just rice. I guess we all felt that at some point in the near future, we would need that rice to cook something.
-I now have 14 liters of Coke products in my kitchen that are leftovers from Friday's party. We also have about 4 liters of excess alcohol, 2 bottles of wine, and half a bag of Pizza Rolls.
-I can't really go into more detail about this for fear that it might make us look incredibly lame, but at one point this weekend something funny happened. Something happened that was so funny, Pizzle and myself laughed about it so hard and long, I'm pretty sure I broke something inside myself. It became the new weekend inside-joke, and I'm fairly certain that at my wedding, Pizzle will lean over and whisper something relating to said funny event, and I will proceed to crack up uncontrollably and get left at the altar by my very pissed off ex-girlfriend. It was THAT FUNNY.
-I got to spank Jen with a horse-whip and it made the entire apartment take notice. Unfortunately, she did not whinny.

Things I came to realize this weekend:

-In all 3 Die Hard movies, Bruce Willis is teamed up with a sidekick/partner/friend who happens to be black. I'm not sure what Hollywood is trying to say about this, but if I had to guess I would say it is something to do with muffins.
-I enjoy going to cocktail parties for the following reason: It's like a big cover-up. Everybody there is drinking, and you can get as drunk as you want, as long as you keep yourself in check and keep your manners above par. It's almost an example of how rich people do the same things that poor people do, they just do it with more class. I might have to expand on this idea sometime.
-If you are hiding from terrorists, just find a dark corner and try not to move for approximately 30 seconds, and they will give up the search and go back to what they were doing.
-At Saturday's party, Pizzle and I became drunk from an assortment of wine. During this process, we began to be extra-happy and funny. I have decided to dub this new experience "Happy Wine Drunk" or HWD.
-Most girls do not like having their toes messed with.
-You can watch 3 hours of Discovery channel and not get any smarter.
-Orange Juice, while tasty, is a horrible hangover drink if you have too much of it.
-General Tso's chicken is just as good to eat while it's cold.
-Carpet holds smells...I will explain no further.
-If you're hanging on a ledge, and your partner is above you covering your position: do not let him drop down on top of your head because you will lose almost half of your life bar.
-There is no problem that lying in bed all day can't solve.

You Asked For It: Sappy Shanshu Time!

The Pain Remains
You feel nothing for me,
I hurt for that.
All my embraces are gone,
stolen by his arms.
He whispers, you listen.
I can't hear.
Why did we grow apart?
Why did you leave?
You find comfort with him
and never again with me.
Lost, aching, alone.
My heart breaks everyday
Bleeding, it screams for you.
Only for you.
The pain remains.

Thor-Axe Thursday

Many of you have wept. Some of you have verbally questioned. Even fewer of you have noticed. Whether you are a part of the few or the many, one point seems clear: my lack of creativity this week is disheartening. I know you suffer, for I see it day by day…and I am sure you do not suffer needlessly. My only consolation is to tuck you into bed and whisper in your ear, “It will all be over soon”. The creative well within my soul has not yet dried up like a sun-cooked raisin, nay it is simply lying dormant while other things within my brain take priority. For now, I must leave you with a Thursday post that will not inspire, nor cause joy. It simply is.

If you look to your right, you will notice that I have put my blog links in alphabetical order in appropriate anal-retentive fashion. Please note that this does nothing for the overall appearance of my blog; it simply helps me to feel clean. You may now clap for me.

I got the chance to chat with HMH today. It’s always fun to chat with fellow bloggers, in my opinion. That puts my total up to 2, which is twice as high as the previous record of blogger chat buddies, so that shows great social improvement. You may now clap for me a second time.

I considered posting some of my poetry today, including the poem I had “published” back in college. In the end I decided that most of my readers would not care to see that side of me, and so I held back. Perhaps I will share the Sappy Shanshu with you in the future, but for now you’ll have to make do with tales of group bunny and rambling rants. Oh, and don’t forget about lists…lists are my bread and buttah, bitches.

I also considered posting the first part of a story I am currently working on…I’m still undecided on that one, at the moment. I might end up leaving that up to a vote, or something. It won’t be today, so there’s not really a point in bringing it up. You may not clap for me a third time.

I think I will get back to work now, before this post starts to suck ass. Stay tuned for more blogging brilliance and witty writing, or more words that start with the same letter!

Girls who play video games are sexy

'nuff said.

Why I like Mexican Food

I like the way it tastes, and I enjoy the spicy.

Pricing Paradigms

You know what really grinds my gears? The way that marketers and advertisers price things that we purchase using almost whole numbers like $19.95 or $9.99 or $29.98…are these fucking people kidding? Do they honestly believe that a person is going to be looking at the price for a movie, and say to themselves “Wow…only $15.99! That’s only $15 for a movie, but I expected to pay $16…what a great price!”. Is that the thought-process they were shooting for when they took off A PENNY and hoped that the American public would buy into their crap? I guess they seem to think that people will think they are getting a better deal, or that the item in question is less money than originally expected, purely on the basis of our in-ability to round decimals.

Well, guess what: we are not as dumb as you think we are, marketing executives!!

Since we were children, we were taught in math class to round up. It was drilled into our brains, along with the I before E rule and the Sex leads to STD’s and babies, ALWAYS rule. We have been taught how to do it…we are good at it. It’s a fairly simple concept to grasp, too.

For the marketing and advertising people out there that like to use the $19.95 pricing rule, here is a quick lesson in advanced mathematical and decimal theory, done by my friend Billy in the 4th grade:

If the number in the tenths decimal place is higher than, or equal to 5…you round the number to the left of the decimal up by one. This is called rounding up. If the number in the tenths decimal place is lower than 5…you do not change the number to the left of the decimal. This is called rounding down.

Check out these examples for rounding to the nearest whole number:

7.56 = 8
5.34 = 5
132.89 = 133
19.95 = 20

I hope this clears things up, for you idjits out there who like to use the $19.95 rule for consumer pricing. Let me help you out: we are NOT falling for your crap, nor do I think that we ever did, to begin with. I don’t know anybody lame enough to think that $32.99 equals $32….not one damn person. Hey, marketers! Do you think we are retarded? Do you think we cook our bacon in the freezer, or wear our socks on our heads? Do you see me counting on my fingers when trying to calculate how many times I’ve fucked your wife? No. Please stop treating us like morons. Some of us are partially educated, you know.

People instinctively round numbers...usually up. Look at time, as another example. Who looks at the clock that reads 2:59 pm and says, “Wow! It’s only 2:00! I have plenty of time to make it to my 3:00 meeting! I think I’ll go play in traffic for a while!”

Does anybody do that? No. Why not? Because it’s fucking stupid. Why would pricing be any different? No reason, whatsoever. So why does every price end with .95 or .99 or .98 or some other derivation? There are only 2 possible answers:

1-The people that price these things assume that we are the stupidest creatures to ever walk the face of the earth, since the Dodo bird.
2-The people that price these things are stupid because their parents were brother and sister.

That’s the only logical conclusion to make from the data given to us. Either they think we are stupid, or they are stupid. I’m not sure which one it is, although the latter sounds much better. Truthfully, the answer must be the first one…they assume we are idiots, that cannot think for ourselves.

Now, I’ve seen enough proof in this country on a daily basis to prove that most of the people we interact with on a daily basis are complete morons. However, even a moron can tell you that 3.99 rounds up to 4. Nobody walks into McDonald’s with 99 pennies, hoping to purchase a cheeseburger. They know that numbers round up, and there is this other magical thing called TAXES that make the numbers go up, even higher.

So marketing and advertising people in charge of consumer pricing: please stop this ridiculous pricing strategy, because it’s insulting and makes us angry. And you don’t want to see us angry…we might come to your house and beat you within .99 inches of your life.



Happy Monday!

Random thought of the day: This morning while watching CNN in the lobby of my office building, the headline at the bottom of the screen read “Military Quake Aid” and I wondered to myself, “What is a military quake?"

Shanshu's Christmas List

• $1,000,000 in un-marked, non-sequential bills
• Group bunny with somebody famous or semi-famous or at least somebody who has done some TV commercials
• 1986 Pontiac Fiero (red)
• An iPod Nano
• A Nintendo Gamecube so I can purchase the new Legend of Zelda game
• An entire case of wine/mead
• Naked pictures of my 4th grade English teacher, Mrs. Kennedy
• A katana sword
• A time-travel device that also makes ice cream
• 2 all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun
• A date with a blogger gal
• A law, signed by myself and the President of the United states, which will make Reality TV illegal and punishable by death
• The Boondock Saints sequel
• My very own laptop
• One word: Oakley's
• A new tattoo that makes me look both sexy, and sophisticated
• A package of Oreo cookies and a glass of milk
• A leather-bound copy of Maxim
• A box of Puffs Plus with aloe
• A battery for my broken silver watch
• Charisma Carpenter's home phone number
• 17 rubber bands
• The ability to stop the beating of a frog's heart using only the power of my mind
• One of the original 20 great Rings of Power
• Ankle-high socks with navy blue trim
• One bottle of ice-cold root beer
• A Pink Lady golf ball
• A house with a big yard and a finished basement
• Peace on earth, and goodwill towards men
• The original Optimus Prime Transformers toy
• A pair of twin golden Beretta guns with holsters
• Spidey-Sense
• A tea cozy
• A hole in my bedroom wall that lets me see into the fabric of time and space
• A puppy that doesn't move unless I pet it
• A knife that cuts bread and toasts it, at the same time
• A weekly magazine that keeps me up to date on world news, politics, and entertainment
• Oral sex from Jenna Jameson
• Pencils

Lemme tell ya...

This day has not started off in the best way possible. First let me start by saying that last night I went out with my buddy Mike and his wife, and what should have been a casual get together and dinner turned into a drink-a-thon of epic proportions. I'm not saying we broke any records or anything, but for a Wednesday night we did just fine thankyouverymuch. I didn't get to bed until almost 2:00am and 6:30am rolled around WAY too soon, for my taste.

The hangover was upon me. All hope of a good day was spoiled from the moment I tumbled out of bed and crawled into the bathroom to put on my face.

After I had finished the process of making myself look semi-presentable, I walked outside to start the day and was greeted by the spectacular image of morning dew, golden sunshine, and stewn-about garbage on the grass. It seems that during the night, some ill-mannered nocturnal beast had decided that the treasures he sought would be found in my trash bag. The little fucker ripped a huge hole into my plastic garbage holding device and then proceeded to throw about its contents with little care for public cleanliness. The lawn was littered with tissues, empty food boxes, and one or two female preventive leakage devices.

Cursing outloud and shaking my fist towards the woods, I began to pick up the trash and re-package my mess into a new plastic garbage holding device. After setting it down and casting numerous anti-creature spells, I headed to my car to begin my wonderful morning commute.

Hangovers. Trash. Nocturnal garbage destroyers. Thursday has been shaping up to be another terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. With any luck, my boss will come into my cubicle and kick me square in the nuts so my morning can be complete.

Happy FUCKING Thursday.


Shanshu's Quick List of Mini Anecdotes and Advice From Last Night:

• For my buddy Mike, "Let's all go out to dinner" actually translates to "I'm going to make you drink so much, you'll forget your gender."
• Following up a rum and coke with a Jagerbomb and then following THAT up with a Rock Lobster shot is a sure-fire way to ensure that you will say or do something extremely stupid in the next 6 hours.
• You shouldn't light a candle with the end of your index finger.
• It's a good idea to NOT have a genital-measuring contest while still at the bar.
• Several times throughout the course of the evening, we toasted to something Irish and then forgot what we toasted to, and so had to do it a second time. Thanks a fucking lot, Ireland.
• After partaking in a certain herbal refreshment, a certain blonde female informed me that "tap water tastes REALLY good".
• Wine doesn't make a very good night-cap after an evening of power drinking.
• I had such a realistic dream last night, that after waking up from a state of drunken hibernation I had to convince myself that I was no longer in prison with the cast from The Golden Girls.
• When somebody starts busting out photo albums from college after a night of shooters, it's time to go home.
• Always...no, wait. NEVER go out in a blizzard.
• When you say "Show me your tits!", be sure to specify you want to see a girl's tits.
• "Sweater Meat" is not the best way to refer to a woman's breasts.
• Never order enchiladas from a fern bar.
• $2.50 for a rum and coke is another example of how awesome this country is.
• There is no acceptable way to work the phrase "face-fucking" into a civilized conversation.

BOBI Tagged Me

I've been tagged by BOBI. There's not really much more to say, other than that.

10 Things I'd like to see come back:

1. Slap Bracelets
2. Land of the Lost
3. RCA VideoDiscs
4. Funny Saturday Night Live episdoes
5. That balloon I let go when I was 5
6. The legal beating of wives with a stick no bigger than the husband's thumb
7. 3-2-1 Contact
8. Theatric Porn
9. Frankenfurters (those hot dogs with chili in the middle!)
10. 1986 Pontiac Fiero

People I have decided to tag:

• Ebeth
• Pizzle
• HMH
• Crystal
• Musie

Crappy Contacts and Corporate Cram

My contacts are really bugging me today. No matter how many times I put eye drops in, or how often I rub them, my vision is blurry and my eyes feel dry. It’s like I’m underwater without goggles, and it blows. I fucking hate days like this…I keep blinking and shaking my head, and rubbing my eyes. I keep using eye drops and then I blink some more and then I rub my eyes again, to no avail. I even try little “eye exercises” to try and get things moving in there…looking up and down, side to side…nothing works. My vision is 100% FUBAR today.

Super. THAT will make yet another day in corporate hell so much better…not being able to see the crappy work I don’t want to do, in the first place.

I’m not sure if that last sentence was sarcasm, or not. I’ll have to get back to you on that one.

Today is just not a good day for me. I’m not in the mood to be here…not that I’m ever in the mood to be here, but some days are worse than others. Some days, I am able to cope with being stuck in this cubicle doing monkey work and watching the clock. Sometimes, the time actually seems to go by at a fairly decent rate and I don’t mind being here as much. Other days, like today…suck worse than anything has ever sucked before.

Sometimes I wonder why I don’t just quit this place and then I remember those pesky bills and rent pppaymehtnts ansd i………godddammet coontacct lenseses! I kan’t shee whut I’m tyyping! Argh!

You see my desperation? Even my eyes aren’t playing by the rules…no part of my body wants to be here today. Maybe I should just jump the wall, and make a break for it. I bet the guards won’t be able to get a clean shot off in time. I’ve been watching Prison Break on Fox, so I think I’ve got enough knowledge stored away in my brain for some serious genius at the artistry of escape. Wish me luck, and if you don’t hear from me…it means I made it, and I’m sitting on the beach in Oak Island drinking a Pina Colada and thinking of you.


I’ve decided that sentence up there was sarcasm. Oh, and if you want to try and cheer me up with tales of bunny or corporate escape attempts, I have added my email address to my profile page. So feel free to drop me a line. I'm going to head to the bathroom and see if I can scrub my eyes clean with a pencil eraser.

No words...

I'm not sure what I think about this, to be honest. I am completly at a loss for words. If you have an opinion on the matter, please share it with me so I can form an opinion based on the opinions of other people. I feel like being a sheep today.

Baahhh.

Hark! The Weekend is Upon Us!

Now THAT is the kind of partying I want to do this weekend! Hopefully I'll have some stories for my loyal readers on Monday. Until then, have a shot in my honor.

Pain and Pleasure: A Blog-Thesis

Pain: usually localized physical suffering associated with bodily disorder (as a disease or an injury); also : a basic bodily sensation induced by a noxious stimulus, received by naked nerve endings, characterized by physical discomfort (as pricking, throbbing, or aching), and typically leading to evasive action.

During a recent video research session relating to the mating rituals and habits of the California-based porneus starius, I found myself pondering an arousing and interesting thought. This thought came to me ever so gently, as I was giving a routine breast exam to the young lady beside me. During the procedure, the female began to show signs of arousal at my touch and urged me to continue in a more provocative manner. I obliged, and slowly started to squeeze the nipple of her left breast between my thumb and forefinger in a gentle yet firm manner. Upon doing so, the female began to moan and rotate her pelvis in a counter-clockwise motion while digging her nails into the arm of the sofa. Soon, she began to request an increase in the pressure on her nipple with varying degrees of urgency and desire. Her verbal commands of “harder…please, harder!” instigated the increased nipple squeezes which led to the moment when I found myself pondering the arousing and interesting thought: I'm touching a boobie!

I continued to increase the pressure to her nipple, while trying to keep myself from squeezing too hard, thus prematurely ending the breast exam. However, to my surprise the female continued to request that more pressure be introduced to the squeezing of the mammary protuberance, until I found myself compressing it at levels which bordered on pain and lunacy. When this level was reached, the female began to inhale and exhale deeply, while biting her lower lip and continuing to dig her nails into the sofa. It was then, that she displayed what many researchers refer to as “throes of passion” which would inevitably lead to the moment of orgasm. At this point it was decided to continue the exam in a more private location where I would be able to “bust a nut” in a controlled research scenario.

After the session was concluded and I had completed all of my research, I found myself wondering about the correlations between pain and pleasure. Where does one end, and the other begin? Are they synonymous? Do they exist in a causational relationship? Can too much pleasure be painful, or too much pain be pleasurable? The questions swirled in my mind, and I found it difficult to fall asleep as I lay there next to my research subject. I decided that more testing had to be done.

* * *

Of course, we all know that some people enjoy pain; the common term of masochism is defined as a sexual perversion characterized by pleasure in being subjected to pain or humiliation. Well, this definition doesn’t quite fit all of the possible scenarios for enjoying the sensation of pain, in my opinion. Why is it automatically sexual? Haven’t you ever been aroused by pain in ways that you would not expect?

-Hair Pulling : Why do some women enjoy having their hair pulled during sex?
-Indian Burns: They can hurt, that is true…but I can recall asking to receive them when I was a child. Why would I ask for pain, if there wasn’t some part of me that enjoyed that particular stimulus?
-Spanking: This started out as an act of punishment when we were children, and yet many adult women (and men) find themselves sexually aroused by the act, as they mature.
-Hot tubs: the water is usually above 100 degrees, and can ever turn our skin red from the excess heat…yet we moan and smile with pleasure as we lay there.
-Back and Body Rubs: high levels of pressure on the back and muscles in an attempt to relieve stress. These can hurt like a sonofabitch and yet we ask for them because of how good they make us feel afterwards.

Pain and pleasure. Pleasure and pain…the two terms are completely opposite of each other on the dictionary spectrum, and yet they are surprisingly similar in their emotional outputs. A friend on mine once informed me that the look on a person’s face when they are in pain is the same look that a person can make during extreme pleasure moments (orgasms). This suggests that the body’s physical response can be the same for both negative and positive physical stimulus. Ohhhhhhhh interesting.

Example: The way a man reacts to ejaculation (body shakes, sharp intake of breath, flexing of the body) is the same way he would react to sitting in a tub of ice-cold water…minus the semen part.

Obviously, we can say that pain and pleasure are similar, and can invoke similar physical responses to stimuli. However, I do not think we can freely interchange the two. Rubbing one’s skin with a soft cloth is a pleasurable event; using steel wool is a painful event. While slaps to the buttocks can be both painful and pleasing at the same time, a severe beating with clubs and paddles leans towards the side of ouch.

I think we can also say that the same external physical stimulus can produce different internal emotions, based on circumstances. If you twist a woman’s nipple when she is in a state of sexual arousal, the act can be manipulated into a pleasurable and painful event. If you twist the nipple the same way while she is not in a state of sexual arousal, such as watching television or working on a research paper…the result would most likely be pain, for both parties involved.

So, some pain can be pleasurable…and some pleasures can be painful. But not all things that are painful are also pleasurable, and not all pleasing things are painful things. Black is not always white, and white is not always black. In order to go forward, you must take two steps back.

Pain and Pleasure…I’ve decided this is something worth exploring more. I’m going to borrow my friend’s horse whip for this weekend and see if I can do a little bit more research. Whinny like you love it, baby! Yee-haw.

Origins and the Mystery of Bunny

I have had a lot of people ask me lately, "Dude what the heck is group bunny?". What started out as a fun little catch-phrase has turned into a new saying amongst my friends and fellow bloggers. Because of this, I feel the need to make sure that everybody understands what the bunny means to me; to all of us. Even though I'm sure most people can get the gist of what group bunny is without asking for a translation, I'm betting that very few people remember why I started using this phrase, in the first place. So, in accordance with blogger code TK-421 I will re-publish the original "bunny" post for your enjoyment and quest for knowledge. Enjoy!


Don't bunny in my hair, I just washed it
Tuesday, March 29th 2005

Happy Easter! I trust that you all had a good Sunday with family and friends, and that all was enjoyable?

As some of you know, my Easter Sunday normally involves Church and dinner with my mother...sometimes accompanied by my uncle and/or grandmother. Since my family has never been large, holidays like Easter are never anything more than dinner, for the most part. This year, however, I was introduced to the world of big family holiday insanity. My guide for said event was my girlfriend Jenni, who tried her best to prepare me for "Meyer Easter Bash 2005".

In the morning, I met my mom at church for Sunday Easter service. It was nice, and I left with a general good feeling about life, the universe, and all the birdies in between. My mother even gave me an Easter basket, filled with eggs of all colors, which were in turn filled with goodies galore. Chocolate eggs and jelly beans and M&M’s abounded; topped off with a nice bottle of Merlot. Ah, yes. Wine and chocolate…the cornerstone of any perfect Easter basket.

I said farewell to mom, and headed back to the apartment to pick up Jen. Together, we headed towards her aunt’s house where the festivities were going to be held for the day.

We were among the first to arrive, and so much of the first part of the day was spent standing around and waiting for the other guests. This proved to be more difficult than it sounds, since Jen was still not 100% over her chest cold, and I was only on day 2 of my horrible stomach bug. So, needless to say, standing around sipping water for 2 hours was not the speediest road to recovery we could have been on.

Nevertheless, we managed to munch on some snacks and sip some drinks, and generally had a good time chatting away with Jen’s family and friends of the family. Now, when I say “family” I mean FAMILY. You know…like “I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse” family? Well, they aren’t a mob family, or anything. But there are enough of them, that I feel if they wanted, they could really create havoc in the crime world. They would be called the Meyer Mafia, and they would strike fear in the hearts of men…or something like that.

Anyway, she has a big family.

Eventually, they started the Meyer Easter 2005 scavenger hunt. Everybody was split up into teams, and those teams were then given tasks to complete. I guess this has been going on for years, and it’s become quite the reason for attending said Easter party. I’ve heard Jen talk about it before, and I was very curious as to what would be involved.

I looked on the team sheet, and saw that I was on team #7, while Jen was on team #2. Crap. That meant I would be on a team with people that I did not know, and that bodes badly. Although, it turned out that I already knew 2 of the members of my team, and Nelson was the only member I had to be introduced to. So, it turned out fine.

After the teams were together and ready, we received our “clue” sheet. It was basically a cryptic page about bunnies and the Oscars, the result of which would lead you to:

1-Name an Oscar-Winning actor who has the same first or last name as one of the Plaza Bunnies, that matches the clues on your team’s game sheet
2-Name the movie that actor won their Oscar for
3-Get a photo of your group along with the bunny statue on the Plaza that matches your team’s Oscar-winning actor
4-Figure out a scene from the movie that your team will act out for everybody else, later on.

Whew! I was now knee-deep in the famous Meyer Family Easter Bash.

My team’s actor turned out to be Nicolas Cage in Leaving Las Vegas. So we piled into Nelson’s car, and drove down to the Plaza to search for a bunny named “Nicolas” or “Cage” or some other derivation. Luckily for us, Nelson already knew where a bunny statue was named “Nicolas” was, and so that saved us a heap of time and trouble. So we found the bunny, and gathered around it to take our team bunny photo. Then, we headed to Nelson’s house for a few props for our movie scene, and then headed back to Easter HQ.

After all the other teams arrived at the house, they began to prepare their skits and such, and so my team did the same. We decided to let Nelson play Nicolas Cage, and that 10-year old Madeline would play the hooker. Nice, huh? Well, we also decided it would be too hilarious if we grabbed direct quotes from the movie, and had the two of them read them in a “dramatic scene”. This would have been funny enough…but Nelson had the great idea to replace every bad word with the word “bunny” to keep with the theme.

Example: You can bunny me in the bunny. You can bunny on my face…just keep it out of my hair, I just washed it.

How great is that? So needless to say, after Nelson completed his very serious and dirty Nicolas Cage monologue using the term “bunny” every few seconds…the crowd was roaring with laughter and my team won the competition! Yay! Jen was happy for me…but also annoyed. I guess that in the 11 years she has been playing this Easter game, she has never won before. Bummer. I got a nice blue ribbon, and (from what Jen has told me) bragging rights for the next 6 months, so I was happy.

After the competition was over, we had dinner. Around this time, I checked my watch to notice that we had been a part of the Meyer Easter bash for almost 6 hours, already. Wow. Jen was feeling bad, and I was ready to go, as well. So after dinner, we decided it was time to leave. So, I survived my first Easter Bash, and I must say it was a good time. I think next year I’ll try really hard to win again…just so I can have bragging rights over Jen for a long time!

Nelson's Bunny Monologue:
"Are you bunny? Are you bunny? Maybe if you drank bunny with me, it would help. Maybe if you bunnied me and I could taste the sting in your bunny, it would help. If you drank bunny with me bunny. If you smelled of bunny as you bunnied me, it would help. It would increase my esteem for you. If you poured bunny onto your bunny body and said to me "bunny this". If you spread your bunnies and you had bunny dripping from your bunnies and your bunny and said "bunny here" then I could fall in love with you. Because then I would have a purpose. To bunny you up and that, that would prove that I'm worth something. I'd bunny you clean so that you could go away and bunny someone else."

Shanshu's "Not really trying" Post

I'm not going to try and make this post uber cool or awesome in any way. It's Monday, and if you know me at all you know I hate Mondays with a passion that is only rivaled by my contempt with my current employment. Put the two together, and you have a very uncreative and sassy Shanshu. Needless to say, this post won't be all that, and a bag of chips. Please don’t stop reading my blog, because I guarantee this post will make you want to kill yourself since it is going to S-U-C-K.

What I did this weekend:

-Friday night was dinner with my mommy and Jen at a friggin awesome steakhouse. There was a lot of dead cow involved, and a lot of beer. Then we went home and watched Crash and I fell asleep because the movie bored the ever-loving shit out of me. Blah blah racial stereotypes, blah blah everybody has problems, blah blah people are mean, blah blah we're all connected. The end.

-Saturday was the Renaissance Festival. The KC Ren-Fest has been a tradition of mine since I was a wee lad with a thirst for culture, history, and the chance to see women in corsets. This was my first visit this year, and the fun was dampened by the hot, humid weather and the never-ending supply of mud. No amount of beer or turkey legs could have made the day much better. Jen got a cute little Henna tattoo on her lower back and that was pretty sexy and exciting. TARGET! Huzzah!

-Saturday night was a drinking and porn party at a friend’s house. We rented 3 movies but the best one was Debbie Does Dallas: The Revenge. Thumbs up all around…I suggest you go rent it. Heck, go buy it because I’m sure you’ll enjoy it over and over and over and over again. Oh, and just to save you the suspense, there was no group bunny this weekend so if that’s all you care about, you might as well stop reading now.

-Sunday was my friend Connie’s wedding reception. It was a grand event under a big tent out in the middle of the country. There were drinks and there was food, and there was fun. I even saw some people that I hadn’t seen in years, so that was fun to play catch up and such. I even got to see Connie in her wedding dress, which was cool since I wasn’t able to make it to the wedding last year because it was in Taiwan. So, I had a good time. I couldn't stay as long as I wanted to, because Jen was sick and I had a wicked hangover, but I had fun regardless.

So that was my weekend. I’m pretty tired today, to be honest. I took a mini-nap at lunch and that didn’t really help, much. I am literally counting the minutes until I can leave the office and head home to crash on the sofa. I hope everybody had a great weekend, and lots of group bunny.

Happy Monday

More Stupid Than I Can Handle

There are certain things in this world that piss me off to the point of crazy. Mostly, it involves the stupidity of other people and their desire to rub their dumb off onto me like some sort of infectious disease. I feel it is my duty to share my rage with the world, in the hopes that at least one person will be saved from the onslaught of retarded people who try to pull us down to their level of lame on a daily basis. They can’t be stopped, but at least they can be avoided with some careful maneuvering.

Today’s stupid people rant will be about CHAIN LETTERS.

I hate chain letters. I hate them in the face. I hate them so much, that every time one of my “intelligent” friends or loved ones forwards one on to me, I lose a little bit more faith in my society, and its system of social evolution. How can a person who considers themselves to be a smart member of our society really believe that there are African princes out there who are trying to give away their fortune for the low price of $199.95? How do these people not fall down more often?

Here is the chain letter that I received this morning, along with the explanation as to why it’s bogus.

It really makes my butt itch, when my friends and family send this crap to me. I shake my fists to the skies and curse the person who started the chain, and pray that they do not have the physiological capacity for reproduction so they cannot burden us with their idiocy any longer. National Blood Initiation Day? Fucking lame. So lame, it limps. How could somebody I know fall for this crap?

The thing that really gets me about chain letters, is that it dupes smart people into believing them. Once a smart person starts to believe a dumb person, it’s all over for our way of life. The fabric will start to unravel, and our world falls into chaos. Chain letters do nothing but spread the “stupid disease”, and cause intelligent people to run out and do stupid things. How many people do you know who ran out and bought a home generator and a year’s supply of food before Y2K? Do you know how lame that was? UBER LAME. I guarantee some idiot hacker thought it would be funny to start some sort of anti-information chain letter about how the world is going to explode when Y2K happens and it caused a ton of smart people to buy into his bullshit and cause panic in the streets.

Argh.

The problem with chain letters, is that they never make it sound too fake. They give you just enough bullshit, wrapped with some truth in the hopes that you will buy into the lie and forward the letter and infect more people with the hoax. I’ve decided that aliens are going to take over our planet, and they’re trying to make as many of us turn stupid before the invasion as they can. Their weapon? Chain letters filled with bogus information and crap to make our brains shrink up and die within our skulls.

So, for my friends and family, who I love and protect…let me clear a few things up for you, in regards to chain mail:

-95% of all chain emails you receive are bogus. Accept this as fact, and you’ll be fine.
-There are no princes in Africa that are willing to give you $100,000 if you buy them a plane ticket to Florida on your credit card.
-No matter how many people you forward an email to, there will never be a video that pops up to reward you afterwards….ever.
-Big companies like Microsoft, Subway, Ford, Starbucks, etc. will never send out a chain letter that says something along the lines of “please forward this to 100 people and we’ll give you money” . This will never happen.
-Abstinence from chain emails is the only way to be safe.
-No matter how many people’s names are on an email chain, it will never: drop the price of gasoline, withdraw our troops from Iraq, or save a life.
-If the police are worried about something that is a threat to you, they will not rely on email chains to inform you. They’ll do something crazy like…make a public announcement, or involve your local news team.
-If the email contains the words “This is not fake!” or “This is for real” then you can be positive that it IS fake and that it is NOT real.

Hopefully, somebody out there will read this and change their ways. With any luck, the next time one of you receives a chain email that makes some ridiculous claim and uses buzz words and official looking data, you’ll know the truth and do the right thing…delete it and then beat the person who sent it to you over the head with a rubber chicken.

We must fight the stupidity, people. We must put a stop to this spread of dumb that is seeping into our brains through idiotic crap like chain letters!!! Fight the spread! Stop the insanity!



Now please forward this to at least 10 people, so we can save Timmy's life and then a video will pop up on your screen. Don't forget to send me $19.95 so we can cure cancer.

Costume Lameness

Should I wear fake blood on my face? Do these pants look like something a necromancer would wear? Are we going to have metal swords, or just those wooden ones like last time? Why is Amanda making out with that goblin in the corner? Doesn’t she know that he’s here with the pink fairy over by the cheese cubes? Besides, everybody knows that goblins and elves hate each other…

Yes, kiddies. It’s almost that time of year again. The Eve of All Hallows…the day before…um…the Hallows. The time of costumes, mass amounts of candy consumption, and a burning desire to look at your fellow peers and friends in a very sexy new light. It’s the one day of the year, when even the geekiest girl among us can roam the streets dressed like complete whore without fear of imprisonment or ridicule. Halloween is the day when we all allow ourselves to succumb to some of those darker impulses, and find comfort in the darkness. On this day, we do not shy away from those things that scare us…we embrace them.

The most important aspect of this day is the ritualistic yet necessary custom of dressing up in costumes. We wear outfits/masks/makeup in an attempt to be as scary/sexy/funny as we can be in the name of good fun and holiday cheer. The ancient custom of wearing masks dates back from when people believed that All Hallows Eve was the night when the demons and evil creatures would walk among us, in search of….candy, apparently. These roaming candy demons would devour any humans they came across, and so people would wear scary masks to pass as just another evil being in search of chocolate goodness. Kind of like gargoyles, except without the statues and high buildings. The tradition of dressing up in costumes started out as a superstitious tactic to avoid the undead. Today, it’s usually just an excuse to see that girl in accounting dress up in a sexy French maid outfit.

Even though Halloween is a good month or so away, I’m trying very hard this year to be prepared. I was a Boy Scout, after all and that was our motto: be prepared. So this year, instead of coming up with a lame costume idea at the last minute ("this is my costume…serial killers look like everybody else!"), I’ve decided that this year I’m going to put some thought into it.

So, while I was online today looking at costume ideas and online costume shops, I noticed something that had never really occurred to me, before. Halloween costumes are designed with hot girls in mind, and hot girls only. I mean, there were TONS of costumes out there for the ladies, and they all involved the showing of legs, the breasts, or both. Of course, that doesn’t bother me too much…it’s just the fact that all of the men’s costumes definitely stood on the side of suck. Like I want to dress up like a giant slice of pizza? Please.

There were sexy vampire outfits complete with mesh stockings and long, jet black wigs and pearly white teeth for the ladies…and a puffy white shirt with a gay cape for the men. Grrr….argh!

There were sexy nurse outfits, sexy French maid outfits…even a SEXY NUN outfit, for crissake! Women have about 1,001 cool costume possibilities, all of which make them sexier and more desirable than they were before. What do the men have to choose from? A purple-cloaked wizard costume complete with a long white beard and pointy elf shoes, or an adult size Harry Potter costume.

Sexy.

The men’s costumes are always lame. Prisoner costumes…black and white striped pajamas with a cute little bell-boy hat and maybe a ball-and-chain accessory for some “realism”. Vampire costumes that make us look…well, gay. Couple costumes that make us look retarded and lame like Raggedy Ann and Andy outfits. I even saw a full-sized Spiderman costume. Now, come on!! I like Spiderman as much as the next dork, but I’m not about to dress up like the fucker on Halloween. "My spidey-sense is tingling! It's telling me I'm not going to get laid tonight." Seriously, what chance do men have with the ladies when they look retarded?

“Dude! Look at Jessica in that outfit! Her boobs look great and she’s so hot!”
“Yeah, man. Totally. I would go talk to her, but this giant Yoda head makes my voice sound funny. You go talk to her, man.”
“I can’t…I’m afraid this Garfield outfit makes me look fat.”

Lame. It’s my mission this year to wear an outfit that doesn’t make me look like a complete and total loser. Hopefully I can come up with something that will allow me to do the nasty with a sexy bar wench or Renaissance chick, instead of sitting at home in my X-Men outfit using my new mutant abilities to change the channel on the TV.





Any cool costume ideas this year? Post a comment and tell us about it.

Girls, Girls, Girls!

Since the topic got such positive feedback, I thought I’d go ahead and post about girls in our blogger community that I think would be awesome in bed. Maybe in future posts we can get more detailed and personal, but for now, I’ll just post their names and why I think they would be able to give any guy (or girl) a run for their money in the sack.

Dirty Blonde: Maybe it’s the drunk thing…maybe it’s the hot party pics she posts…maybe it’s that dirty attitude. Whatever the reason, I have a strong suspicion that she would be hard to keep up with. I'm also willing to bet that if she wanted to, she could post some stories that would even make me blush.

Ashley: I’m not entirely sure why, to be honest. I think it has something to do with the innocent vibe you get from her, but then you find out through hints and sly comments that she would be a wild partner. That whole “innocent housewife with whips in the closet” idea is a classic, and hard to ignore. There's a reason Desperate Housewives is such a big hit.

High Maintenance Hussy: She's bisexual, lives in Europe, and a writer…need I say more? I don’t think so. Sexy and wild, all the way. Growl. When HMH starts the sexy talk, I get warm fuzzies in my special place.

Jen: I really should put Jen on the list, since I know for a fact that she is good in bed. I'm sure there are some people who read this blog that also know this to be true.

Insanityinsk: I don’t even know this girl very well…but her posts are enough to let me know that she is a sexual creature with a lot of toys under her mattress. Wild in bed? I’m willing to put money on it.

Nameless and Kay: These two MUST be wild in the sack, for the pure fact that they enjoy talk about Group Bunny. Anybody who even jokingly mentions wanting to be invited to the next group bunny beach bash is just dying for a threesome, which means at their core they have to be stallions between the sheets. Especially when they work together. (wink)

Spinning Girl: She’s naughty. I can’t tell you why, and I can’t quite put my finger on it…but it is my belief that when given the opportunity, she has the power to make men beg for more. Perhaps it is her Zeus-like ability to shoot out Tolkien trivia like thunderbolts from high above. Or maybe I just get a crazy idea in my head, and have trouble getting it out. Even though I have no proof to back up my theory, I think she's definately got handcuffs under her pillow.

So, there’s my list. It’s not complete, because there are many more that could/should be on it, but as far as first attempts go, I think it’s not too shabby. I’m sure in the future I will include more ladies, and maybe even some lads. We’ll just see how well received this post is, before contemplating a sequel. Please note:

-If you are a girl, and you are not on this list, but feel you should be: leave a comment about why and try to convince me. Don't be offended. Chances are, I wanted to put you on the list but decided against it, this time around. Or maybe I thought you would take offense, and I didn't want to annoy you.
-If you are a girl, and you are on the list, and you do not wish to be because you are shy or embarrassed: please let me know and I will remove you.
-If you are a guy, and you have a girl that you think should be included on the list: please leave a comment and include their name and the reasons behind your answer.
-If you are a jealous boyfriend/husband/monkey: please visit Pizzle or BOBI and let them know all about your rage. They will be handling this aspect of my mail, for me. I hope they don't mind, too much.

This Is My Angry Face

I’m pissed off. I’ve been pissed all morning. Not in a bad way, though. I’m not throwing cups of coffee at the old lady that sits across the row from me at work, or cutting people off on the road. I’m not even snapping at people who deserve it. No, I’m just pissed on the inside. More of an “annoyed” feeling, than anything else. I know you’re reading these words and wondering to yourself “why is Shanshu pissed?” while you eagerly sit forward in your seat, awaiting the arrival of the sentence of explanation needed for you to relax your shoulder muscles and breathe normally again. I could tell you why I’m pissed at this very moment…but I think I might make you wait a minute or two. Then maybe you’ll be pissed off, too.

…

Ok, you know I can’t be a dick like that. See? I’m not pissed at the world, and I’m not taking out my frustration on others. I’m just stewing in my pot of crap and annoyance with the weather. That’s right, the fucking weather has caused me to get pissed. Something as simple and unchangeable as the stupid temperature has caused me to be in a bad mood on this holiest of work days, The Friday. I’ve tried to be in a good mood, but so far the closest I’ve come to being in a good mood is rubbing one off in the bathroom after I saw a hot cartoon chick giving interactive bunny. It’s really not going to get any better than that.

Midwest weather pisses me off. It’s only September, and already the air is chilled. This morning when I walked out to my car, I actually shivered. I took a deep breath, and saw a steam vapor rise out from within me…I could see my fucking breath, it was so chilly. Then I got to my car and noticed some FROST ON MY WINDSHIELD. I almost had an aneurism right there on the pavement…luckily my anger took over, and instead of allowing myself to succumb to the depression, I was able to redirect those negative emotions into “pissed off”.

It’s only September, and already I have to consider the possibility that it’s time to dust off the leather coat and start wearing jeans again. I just got back from the hot, sunny beach…and I’ve returned to the Midwest pre-winter show. Apparently, summer decided to take a vacation while I was gone, and surprise me with this winter ambush.

Fucking winter.

I hate winter, that’s no secret. I’m not one of those people who says “Oh, look at the snow! It’s so pretty!”. That is not my personality towards the matter. I’m more along the lines of “Oh, wonderful. It’s fucking snowing again. Well, the drive to work tomorrow is going to suck ass again.”. Nothing good comes from winter…everybody gets sick, everything dies, and the world is bleak and dark and cold.

@(#*&@&^%$ !!

Anyway, that’s why I have been pissed off all morning. I’ll be fine after lunch, though. I plan to go to the cafeteria and get some rice and veggies from the Asian counter and read my book and be content in my isolation. Tonight I plan on having a great time and staying indoors as much as possible, so as not to be reminded of the fact that summer is almost over.

Have a good weekend, everybody.

Upcoming posts:
-More detailed stories of sexual adventure at the beach
-Why Yahoo Launchcast Music sucks ass
-Girls on the blogger community who I think would rock in bed

Random List: Things OKI Has Taught Me

• The beach of Oak Island (OKI) faces South, not East as one might assume.
• As we gazed at a group of dolphins jumping the waves and being generally awe-inspiring, one of my buds informed us that dolphins attack more humans per year than sharks.
• Hot tubs with too much chlorine can change the color of your swim suit and make your skin stink like bleach.
• If you're going to make Pina Coladas, make sure to use a good mixer beforehand like Bacardi Mixers. Also, make sure to add enough ice.
• You can squeeze 6 people into a hot tub designed for 4 with enough patience, alcohol, and a willingness to accept the fact that some part of your body will come into contact with somebody else's genitals.
• Hurricane winds can offer up very good surfing waves.
• Unless you have a big towel, or don't mind bending over a lot...sex on the beach is NOT as exciting and fun as the stories imply. Reason: Sand. Gets. Everywhere. Even. Inside. Bodies.
• Blow jobs on the beach are completely acceptable and recommended.
• You can eat shrimp for seven days solid and not get tired of it.
• Houses built on stilts sometimes sway in the wind.
• If an ice cream stand looks shady...odds are, it is. Avoid it and head back home to make another Pina Colada.
• Jen likes to get spanked. Hard.
• Unlike almost every other game in existence, Yahtzee gets more boring the more drunk you get.
• Crabs are FAST little fuckers.
• It's hard to be in the ocean swimming, and feel something brush up against your leg, and not scream "Oh God, something touched me! Something touched me! Oh God!"
• Swimming naked in the ocean is fun.
• Swimming naked in the ocean with other people is more fun.
• Swimming naked in the ocean with other people who don't know you are naked is most fun.
• Starting drinking at 11:30am on the beach is a stupid idea. Seriously.
• Jen likes to be spanked by multiple people.
• When attempting to remove the glass blender bowl from the base, it is wise to ensure that the blender is NOT full of mixed frozen drinks.
• Remote controlled vibrators are the best invention ever. They make Yahtzee MUCH more entertaining; especially when the other people playing don't know what's going on under the table.
• Compared to the beach, the air everywhere else in the United States sucks ass.
• Having your genitals handled by 3 pairs of hands all at the same time while soaking in the hot tub is so cool, it should be illegal.
• I don't know if I believe the fact about dolphins attacking humans. That sounds made up to me.
• If you decide to go out to dinner at a nice seafood place...and you walk in and the place is decorated like a hunting lodge, complete with heads on the wall...RUN.
• "Automatically Added Gratuity" is the worst idea ever, and pretty much guarantees that you will receive horrible service.
• Group bunny on the beach is awful...group bunny in the hot tub is delicious.
• Drinking alcohol on an airplane messes you UP. I've been told it's the altitude, though I can't see how that makes logical sense.
• All girls like to be spanked while they're on vacation at the beach.

Beach Pics: As Promised

Oak Island

The view from my bedroom deck

The OKI pier

Dom gazes at the ocean

Sarah returns from the sand

Yes, sandcastles were built

The group bunny hot tub (covered)

John tending to his grill

Yes, games were played

Yes, seafood was eaten

Oak Island: Memories from a dreamer

Very few things in this world leave me speechless and awe-struck: a midget covered in Ranch dressing holding a sledgehammer, Swedish bikini models making out at a country bar while doing the electric slide, and the awesome peaceful power of the ocean. For whatever reason, when I travel to Oak Island and stand on the deck staring out over the beach at the blue oceanic waters beyond, I can’t help but feel humbled and calm. The kind of calm that comes post-coitus or from eating large quantities of chocolate. The kind of peaceful serenity that can only be described by sappy love poems and feminine freshness commercials. When I stare out at that ocean, I feel a peace wash over me that seems to quell the stress and corporate anger that stirs within.

Someday, I will live on that beach. Someday, I will stare out over the sand at that ocean, and breathe deep the calm and peace that Poseidon’s realm offers up to me. I will close my eyes and hear the soothing sounds of the waves crashing down against the shore and know that I am home.

Until then, I am forced to work in this corporate creativity mind-trap and drudge up ways to get myself out of this vicious circle of doom and despair. That, along with as much rum and group bunny as my body can take, should keep me sane until my inevitable move to beach bliss.


Ok, enough of that depressing stuff. Stay tuned for yet another edition of Shanshu’s Random Lists, which will be all about the Oak Island bunny beach bash and the sordid details of rum parties and hot tub nights. Tuck in the kids, grab your mug, and prepare for tales of sandy debauchery and orgasmic ocean outings!!

Post-Vacation Depression

You see this? This is my sad face. I know you can't really see my face right now, so I'll just tell you that I have my sad face on. I'm back from my beach vacation, and I'm not happy about it. In fact, I'm pretty pissed about it. The post-vacation depression has hit me hard, and I have a feeling this is going to be the worst Monday ever.

I have pictures to post, but I can't seem to find my USB cable so those will have to wait.

The beach was awesome, and everybody had a great time. There was sun. There was sand. There were dolphins and crabs and shrimp. There were drinks and Pina Coladas and rum. There was group bunny. There were sunburns and drinking games and boobies galore. There was fun and excitement and peace.

Alas, the trip is over. Reality has set back in. I'm back in corporate hell.

Sigh.

Anyway, hopefully sometime soon I'll be back to my usual self...for now, Shanshu is depressed. I just wanted to let my blogger buddies know that I'm back, and I'm safe, and I had a wonderful time. I'll post more details and pics later, I promise.

Bunny.


PS: I'd like to thank everybody who voted for me in the Best Comedic Blog category on the Order of Brilliant Bloggers. It was a nice surprise to come home to. I'll try to keep up the funny!

Goodbye, Corporate World...

...Hello beach vacation! The time has finally arrived. After months of planning and stress, along with a healthy dose of anticipation, the beach bash is here. The shadow of the corporate shroud of death that for so long covered my hopeless body has been lifted. The beach, sun, surf, and sand call to me. Oak Island, NC here I fucking come!!!

I will be gone for the next 10 days. I'll come back to reality on September 12th, and I won't be posting (most likely) until then. Please dry your eyes.

So, my faithful yet few readers...I say goodbye to you. I hope you take care of yourselfs, and know that I will miss you. I take my leave of you, for group bunny and shooters and seashells await me. I'll take lots of pictures, and I might even post a few, too. If you're lucky.

So farewell, farewell. I'll be thinking of you, while I stare out across the Atlantic sipping a frozen drink with a little umbrella in it.