As I have enough material to write either one very long post (and I know you get bored easily…) or two shorter posts (you still get bored, but you get to leave quicker…and it saves me having to write another post in a few days), I have gone for the two post lazy option.

Same rules as always apply.  The words in the ” ” are quotes found in the list of keywords used in Google to find this site.  The rest…that’s just me being rude/obnoxious/sexy/awesome…delete as appropriate. 

Dear Sy:  Where can I find an “elephant ejaculating video”

Uncle Sy Says: Why?  Is this one of those self hating things you have going on and just feel the need to feel inferior or what?

Dear Sy:  What are good “excuses get out swimming”

Uncle Sy Says:  You could tell your teacher you have syphilis.  It will make you so popular with your classmates!  Failing that, chop off your foot and wave it at your teacher and tell him you have a nasty cut.

Dear Sy:  Is it wrong that I enjoy the feeling of a “fish sucking my penis”

Uncle Sy Says:  Honestly?  Yes.  But then, if your goldfish is able to get it’s mouth around you, enjoying it is the least of your worries you freak.

Dear Sy:  “is there a spell to bring back your lost hamster?”

Uncle Sy Says:  According to the prophecy, you have to burn all of your money and change your name to Hinkleberry.  After 28 days, the hamster will return.  Good luck…Hink.

Dear Sy:  I think you should “read more books”

Uncle Sy Says:  I think you should sod off you patronising git.

Dear Sy:  I dream of you “sucking on my nipple, playing with it”

Uncle Sy Says:  Well that’s awfully nice of you to say Steve, but honestly…I am never gonna go there.

Dear Sy:  “i’m more of a man than you’ll ever be and more of a woman than you’ll ever have”

Uncle Sy Says:  So you are a hermaphrodite then?  That’s great for you.   Now.  Go f*$% yourself….as you can.

Dear Sy: I wish I could play with a “bassett hound penis”

Uncle Sy Says:  I know the pain in which you feel.  I once asked the owner of said hound if I could, but all I got was a court order, a black eye and had to move house after the slur campaign raged against me.

Dear Sy: You are such a “beast sucking fool”

Uncle Sy Says:  Dammit…I have been found out.  Fine, I own up to it.  But are you sure you didn’t mean breast sucking fool?

Dear Sy:  I think “camels are ugly”

Uncle Sy Says:  I think you look like an albino chimpanzee…but you don’t see my mocking you do you.  Blondie.

Dear Sy:  “can a woman swim faster naked or with a bodysuit”

Uncle Sy Says:  Interesting.  A serious question finally.  Could one of my female readers (preferably good looking, awesome figure etc) try this for me, and record themselves doing it?  Send me the video and I will have a damn good look at it to find out.

Dear Sy:  “can alcohol make you hallucinate”

Uncle Sy Says:  Oh hell yes.  The other night I was so drunk I actually saw my feet…which is never gonna happen over my fat gut.

Dear Sy:  “can being a veggie make your dick small”

Uncle Sy Says:  Looking for excuses are we?  Peewee.  But seriously, it’s all about the meat isn’t it?

Dear Sy:  “can master bait get your pennis bigger without pulls”

Uncle Sy Says:  I contacted this Master Bait you mentioned and he said no.  He is not willing to help you anymore and to just get over it.  He then said I should call you a small penised idiot and not talk to you anymore….so that’s it.  Don’t bug me again.

It’s unlikely that you are thinking “So.  Why has Sy put up a photo of a raccoon giving it large to a basset hound?” but on the off chance that you are, it is because I was searching Google Images for an image for this post, and well, I found it. 

So now I have kind of set up the post, lets move on with it.  (Can you feel the excitement and anticipation of something special building?  Nope, me neither.  And with very good reason I fear.)

It’s always the same.  For millions of us men around the world, we go out on a drunken weekend with the lads, we get as drunk as possible and then we molest a raccoon.  Or is that just me and the odd Russian dude here and there?

Yes some 44 year old Russian bloke did just that.  Oh, but strangely the raccoon wasn’t having any of it…which is strange being that I once read in the letters section of Readers Raccoons (it’s a top shelf publication) that the raccoon is the animal worlds “give it away no questions asked” party.

The raccoon whose real name is Heff and is married with 3 kids was quoted as saying:

 “Ah man, you know…humans.  What are they all about?  Here I am out for a night feed with my mates and some human guy tries to get his end away.  And dude…I’m a dude!  You would at least think he would lift up my tail and check for the occurrence of  any giggleberries before getting involved.  So I bit off his ticklestick and made like Flint.”

I dunno.  See, I go out and I get drunk and then I go home and wonder why the ceiling is spinning around and the next morning I broken-promise myself that there is more chance of me dressing up as Ronald McDonald than drinking another drink. 

But not this dude.  He was quoted as saying without a care in the world:

“When I saw the raccoon I thought I’d have some fun”

But the good news in this story is that they couldn’t re-attach it because it seems the raccoon legged it away with his extra inch, and despite countless leaflet campaigns, has not come forward with the part.  So he is having one made via plastic surgery.

I hope they use his thumb.  Personally I think it would be awesome to have a thumb instead of a penis.  I mean honestly, what better way for a woman to know that the bloke is interested than him giving her the thumbs up?  And it could bridge the gap between people who have issues with nudity and with those who like to let it all hang out.  It all makes sense.  Someone would say “Hey, can you help me wrap this present…here, stick your thumb on this.”  Down comes the zipper, and Mother has her Christmas present wrapped.

But reading the news story (which you can find HERE, although I pretty much already told you the whole article) has really given me a new perspective on life.  I now feel that when I go out and get drunk that my life is missing something.  My problem is that the idea of fondling an animal is just not something I see as my idea of fun.  So, I am from this day forward carrying a soft apple around with me.  If I ever get the urge, I will have a trouser chat with Granny Smith.

Note:  yeah I “borrowed” the image from Google Images, so if it is yours and you want it removed, send me a blank signed cheque, proof of ownership of the photo and a pack of Doritos and we will have a chat.

***NOTE***

This was an April Fools joke post, but since then I have seen hits from WD40  and now their PR company coming to the page.  If someone is taking this too seriously, someone needs to lighten up a little!

***END OF NOTE***

Well, when I say “like”, I mean “it is being”.

Yup, a long long time ago I thought that the evil corporation with the rabid mouse as the icon would come after me after I did a post about Winnie the Pooh being a crack addict and a thief.  But luckily I stayed under the radar.

And then I did the post on WD-40…and they (WD-40 Corporation in San Diego) seem to have taken offence.  Well, when I say seem to…I got an email from them with a cease and desist demand for me to take the site or the post down…or they will force it down and take me to court for damages.

Which is about as much fun as being greased up by Big Bob and taken to his private quarters for a bit of “This is going to hurt you more than me” loving.

It is even more fun when the letter is from the US, I am in the UK and this site is hosted in Denmark.

According to the letter attached to the email, it seems that I am somehow giving people the idea it is OK to spray WD-40 on animals and in my ears, and that it creating an “itchy patch” does not give their product a good name as it tells people that the product can be dangerous on someones skin.

I have until midday on April 1st to take the post down, or they will do all in their power to force the site offline.

So naturally, I have replied.  I have told them that I am going to counter sue them.  My basis is that on the can I bought, it nowhere says I cannot spray it on my behind or in my ears.  I am therefore asking for £1MILLION compensation for the pain I have endured from trying to stop my own squeaking. 

I have given them until midday on April 1st to drop all charges and if they comply, I will also drop my charges.

Who will blink first…

It’s no real surprise that in a recent poll, I found out that my intelligence level is that of a chemical soup short of evolution.  Which explains some stuff I guess.  Having a forename of Simon started it all.  I only use Sy because it makes me attractive to the opposite sex.  Sadly, so far the only opposite sex that has confirmed this was a goat…and I wasn’t up for it.

Having this epic fail of an intelligence means that I get confused pretty easily.  Simple everyday life things for instance.  Such as….

My daughter is currently teething.  Nothing unusual about that, we all did it.  But would someone please explain to me the reason why when a tooth is coming through, her bowel movements feel they should turn from “Yeah, that’s not pleasant to clean up!” to “What the hell climbed in her nappy and turned itself inside out… multiplied in quantity ten times over…and decided to use a scent not smelt since last time I dipped my head in the local sewer and had a bit of a lick”? 

It’s just not pretty.  Nor was that image I just put in your head.  Sorry.

But if that is the way it works then so be it.  But what I don’t understand is why things don’t happen in reverse.  By that, I don’t mean that your teeth go back in to your gums, because that’s stupid, and this blog isn’t about stupid…right?!?  So what if every time I released the hounds, I got toothache?  Or even a new tooth?  I am pretty sure that I would never go near another curry in my life.  Actually, if I pushed a tooth out every time, I think eating would be off of the menu for good.

Again, sorry for that image.

OK.  If mother nature wants it like that, then whatever.  But…mother nature does not control TV.  So…

The TV show “Americas Biggest Loser”.  I stumbled across this show while searching for Spongebob Squarepants one morning.  All the contestants seemed like nice people.  But complete false advertising.  I could not see my ex-wife on there.  Nope.  So just how do they get the right to call it that when the worthless imbecile I used to be married to is not on on a show called “biggest loser”?  Because honestly…when it comes to that woman, there is something seriously missing in the brain department.  What’s missing?  I hear you ask.  Well, the actual BRAIN is what is missing.  I wonder if she was banned from the show because it would be unfair to the other contestants?

But what really confuses me is that almost everyone (I say almost but I really have no idea, nor do I really care) who has met an alien says that they have weird accents.  Like the case of the weird freak (the woman not the alien) who met an alien in a field late at night and said that the alien had a Scandinavian accent. Because you know, why wouldn’t he.  In fact… (story HERE)

She said she met the fair-haired man with a Scandinavian-type accent as she walked her dog on a sports field.

He told her crop circles were caused by others like him who had travelled to Earth and that the purpose of his visit was friendly.

He then said he had spoken to her because he felt it was important to have contact with humans even though he had been told not to.

A fair haired Scandinavian?  Wow.  That’s rare.  Normally they are bald with fluffy  green feather tufts coming out of their ears, so this one was highly likely an alien.

So some women meets a dude who has forgotten to take his medication for I dunno…ever?  And then he tells her he is an alien, and she believes him.   So that is two of them that forgot the medication then.

But lets not judge.  I for one believe in aliens.  I believe because I have met one.  It was a few years ago and I was walking through a wooded area and I met a fair haired man with a Scandinavian accent who told me he had travelled to earth.

Hang on….

A site has decided to review my site.  Now I know what you are thinking.  You are thinking “Why the hell do I come to this site? Ooohh yeah, it is the enlightening information that Sy lays upon us”.  But on the off chance that you are thinking “Oh here we go.  It’s all about Sy.  Let him get his kicks by showing off some rave review”, well…read on my friends.

Here is the entire review:

This is the first blogs assignment we have been given in english writing.

We (korrina and lysh) have decided to review this blog : “Email conversations can be fun…especially with scammers”. (The url is http://www.wheelturninghamsterdead.com/)

The style and tone of the author’s language could be called comical… we prefer to think that, after looking at a few different blogs, a lot of bloggers make a big deal over small events in order to insert humour into their everyday lives. The language used is informal and sometimes vulgar. It is the language of miserable, lonely people.

Lysh believes that the author of the blog spoke about his situation in a satirical way and poked fun at the event in order to make it interesting. He failed. The bottom line was that he had recieved an email from somebody he didn’t know and replied just to take the piss out of whoever sent it. We do not find this interesting or enlightening.

There was no moral or underlying message in the blog. It was the simple retelling of events with a few buzzwords thrown in. The theme of the blog is

Yes, it really did end at the word “is”.  They were so in awe of the site, they couldn’t bring themselves to finish typing.  They were probably crying in laughter at the interesting and enlightening topics that I put on the site.  They also reviewed a site with 230 or so posts based on the content of 1 single post.  A review of extraordinary proportions!

That’s right people.  You read this stuff so you are in deed “miserable, lonely people.”  They seem to know us well.  But it’s all a lie.  I know this because I asked the one and only friend I have in the world (OK, so it is a voice in my head) and she said “Oh Sy.  You are sooooo dreamy.  Take no notice.  Here, let me give you a back rub” and I then squeezed my own shoulders…and it was gooooooooooood.

I took the time out of my busy schedule to comment on the site (read:  Was laughing so hard I couldn’t help myself) but as of 18 hours later, the comment still seems to be awaiting moderation.  I did try to explain the fact that they are completely missing the point of the site and a few others things, and honestly…I was polite.  For me.  If the comment is finally released, I will post the link to the review.  You can of course google some of the words and you might find it yourself, which will give you something to do in your miserable lonely life.  Hey, their words not mine.

Now.  I am off to read a book I just downloaded called “Blog Buzzwords:  Way’s to impress your readers”.

Side note:  It is an exact copy and paste from their site, so I didn’t bother changing english to English or recieved to received.  Yes I know.  I am a devilishly handsome rogue. Stop it, I am getting misty.

Do you ever get those emails from the Nigerian email scammers who want you to help them transfer their inheritence to your bank account and in the process drip you dry of all your money?  Normally I hit the delete button after I have a read to see how inventive they get.

I say “normally” because my recent one is from Miss Sali Garuwa…and she sounds tastier than a bowl of cake icing.

So I emailed back.

As usual, her mail was about

Before the death of my mother on October 2004 in a private hospital here in Coted’ivoire where she was admitted, she secretly called me on her bed side and disclosed to me about the sum of nine million five hundred US dollars ($9.6million ) she left in suspense account in one of the bank here in Abidjan,

 

It was the money she intended to transfer overseas for investment before she died, She also instructed me that I should seek for a foreign partner in any country of my choice who will assist me transfer this money in overseas account where the money will be save and invested wisely, Because of the current political problem here in Ivory Coast I decided to transfer the money to abroad where it will be save and invested, therefore, I am crying and seeking for your kind assistance in the following ways:

 

(1) To provide a safe bank account where the money will be transferred for investment,

(2) To serve as a guardian of this fund since I am only 20 years old,

(3) To make arrangement for me to come over to your country to further my education and to secure a resident permit for me in your country.

 

I have decided to offer you 20% Of the total amount for your  willingness to help me, Please kindly response to my mail immediately with your full personal information, telephone number so that I can call and speak with you on the telephone, I will be going to the church prayer warriors meeting after sending you this message to you please do call me with this number (+Deleted phone number in case someone really stupid reads this and thinks it’s real) immediately to confirm your sincere willingness to assist me out of this investment in your country.

Sali, your name sounds like an ocean wave crashing in to the front of a building during a bad storm and there are dead fish everywhere.  It’s beautiful.  I want to help you oh so very much, but you understand that with all the fake emails send by hairy men in Nigeria, I need to confirm you are indeed the sultry funk monkey that you sound in your beautiful email.  Please send me your photo, but to confirm that it is you, please hold up a sign saying “I love Sy from WTHD”.  WTHD is the abbreviation from where I live, as I dont want to confuse you.  It is a beautiful quiet area and I know you will feel at home…even though the gun crime is through the roof and I got molested by a fox a few days ago.  But the treatment is responding well, and I hope in time that the rash will go and we can be lovers.  Pack condoms!

All my love forever,  Sy.

“Sali” replied.  Amazingly!   The return mail, again a beast of a mail too long to put here contained this snippet:

Honestly Sir, I have suffered enough since my parent died don’t even have money to take care of my self, no father, no mother, no brother, no sister then went to the bank to withdraw money out from the account then the bank foreign remittance department director sited me down in his office after going through those documents. He said that my mother deposited the fund in a suspense account in there bank because it’s a big Hug amount that she wanted to transfer overseas she made a comment that no body will withdraw anything out from the account here in Africa unless it transferred to a foreign account before I will get access to the fund The bank people knows my mother very well, they told me that mine mother was one of their best customer here in Africa.

  

 I attached my picture with this message with the writing said I LOVE SY FROM WTHD with black bic, just get back to me with your full information’s and confirm on how and which investments are you going to invest with this fund as soon as I trusted you and infirm the bank to make the transfer to your account.

The money is in a “suspense” account?  So everytime you go to an ATM, it goes “duuum be dum dum…duuuuuum de dum dum…DUUUUUM!” or what?  And it is a big Hug amount?  So much that if you dont want a cuddle at the end of seeing it, you are maybe a little dead inside? 

The photo was indeed attached.  It was quite scary.  Her “bic” pen and handwriting look just like an overtype on the PC.  She is indeed a vixen of love and has me under her spell.  So here is the pic he…erm…she sent:

Look REALLY close and you can see the “I love Sy from WTHD”part below her elbow. And the other scribbled crap?  I have NO idea what that is.  But I have to say, she doesnt look like she lost a parent and has no cash.  Looks like my luck is in here!

So I am going to reply again, coz the guy has no brains to see I am taking the piss…so please…comments.  What would you like added in to the reply?

I got an email from John over at onlinecolleges.net who wrote THIS article on crazy college courses available in the US.  He also told me that if I plugged his site, he would send me loads of beer.  Now this sounds good, although I do think I may have made it up in a vain attempt at getting more beer for my exotic lifestyle of drinking far too much and eating all the wrong foods.  But hey, ladies…he may be single, so if you are, hell I dunno…try getting me some goodies and have yourself a good time while you are there? 

But back to the post rather than trying to matchmaker a date with a guy I never met with a reader that I never met…  In at number 1 is a course called “The Strategy of Starcraft” at the University of California.  As good an idea as this seems, I will go out on a limb here and say they should use World of Warcraft.  Why?  Well, I know someone (and no it really isn’t me as I have never played it!) that spends WAY too much time on it.  The guy is constantly talking about his “Sword of Stupid” and his “Knife of Nerd” or maybe his “Gauntlet of Geek” and will help you pass first time by telling you that the exam question has the wrong answer and his is right.  Yeah, he is the perfect woman for the job.  He will explain why 1 + 1 = 6.  It is good to have balance in life….and a bat to smack him with.  If ignorance is bliss, so is the quiet when he finally shuts up.

Of course, should spending the day sat in a classroom with this person not make you want to end your life by dangling your wedding tackle in to a lions pit and then giving them a good shake while shouting “heeeeere kitty kitty kitty!”, then you can always go the alternative way of ending it all.  You can go on the “Daytime Serials: Family and Social Roles” course at the University of Wisconsin which is also known as the “Long drawn out painful death” option.   

As a side note, I had the pleasure of living in Wisconsin for 3 months many years ago.  I visited “Simon’s Cheese Factory” in the hope I could get a fridge magnet saying “I’ve Tasted Simon’s Cheese” which I could give to ex girlfriends but it seems they already knew of my dodgy ploy to get dubious worded magnets and didn’t sell them.  Of course, if I remember rightly, Simon’s Cheese Factory had the worlds biggest cheddar or something like that.  Which you know…if you have to have a claim to fame, let it be that rather than being the worlds most stupidly annoying man…as per paragraph two.

But back to the course.  Daytime serials?  They are kidding right?  Coz you know…WOW!  How would that conversation go later in life?

“So Simon.  Why do you think you are qualified to do this IT role?”

“Well, I didnt bother with an IT degree, instead I studied daytime TV shows.  Go on ask me a question about anything to do with the brain abuse that is daytime TV!”

“Go away.  SECURITY!!!”

It’s just not going to gel.  OK, so now I know that someone is going to say “Nooo, but the course is actually about this and this”.  Yeah I know, but that’s not as much fun to abuse.  Work with me here people!

It started with a squeak. 

A door that when we closed, managed to wake up the entire neighbourhood.  I wouldn’t say it was loud, because that would assume that I could hear it.  No, it was one of those that had such a high pitched noise that all the dogs in the neighbourhood started a combined howling at the moon and then went on the hunt for the blood of the mortals for use in some weird doggy black magic ritual.

So being Mr Lets-Do-DIY!, I went to the shop and bought the marvel that is WD-40. 

In buying it, I created a monster.

In years gone by, the bottles were nice and small and were still full of more than you will ever need.  After hunting around the shop, the only size bottle I could find was one that I needed to get a trailer for my car to drag the damn thing home.  It’s huge.  In the unlikely even that I ever use it all, I am going to move all my belongings in to it and make it a games and media room.  I mean it.  The thing is enormous.  The day after I bought it, I had a letter from the local council saying they couldn’t see any planning permission for it.

But that would not stop me.  So armed with it now fitted as a backpack, I attached a fire hose to it to help concentrate the spray and tackled the small squeaky hinge.

With a quarter second burst of *pssst*, the hinge was fixed.

What the hell am I going to do with the additional 200993000 litres attached to my back giving me a hump like the uglier cousin of Quasimodo?

Well, I have been experimenting.

After a big plate of baked beans for dinner, I have found that I too can be a touch squeaky. Contrary to the notes on the packaging, it actually can’t stop the noise.  It does however create a bit of an itchy patch that requires attention.

A cat meows.  Nothing wrong with that.  But at 3am when you are woken up by your cat shouting out to it’s 2 kiddies who are asleep on my bed who then jump up going “meowmeowmeowmeow” running to Mum to find out just what dead animal she has bought in this time…well..it gets a touch annoying.  So armed with my backpack of WD-40 and looking like a naked (but incredibly good looking) Ghostbuster, I am aiming my hose (the fire one) at the cat’s and spraying the life out of them with squeaky-stopping-WD-40-goodness.  It didn’t work as planned.  They got louder.  And annoyed.  And then turned up with the dogs ready for the blood ritual.  My blood.

By now I was starting to feel a little bit dejected by the promises made on the can.  But I persevered because I just had nothing better to do with my time than futile exercises.

Ever have that weird feeling every so often when you are walking like there is something loose in your head and you hear a clicking noise?  (Please say yes, it will save me going for tests.) Well, it was starting to annoy me.  So I sprayed the WD-40 in my ears.  I will just say “Don’t try this at home”.  Although in my defence, it worked.  I cant hear anything at all anymore.

So is there anything this is actually good for?

Well actually…yes.  I didn’t realise at first how spraying it in my ears was actually the way forward. 

I can no longer hear the cat meow in the middle of the night. 

I can no longer hear squeaky hinges on doors. 

My own “personal squeaks” are now only known by the fact my nose burns and the cat leaves the room.