It is like a spiritual gorgonzola

Lets talk about “cheese”.  Actually, lets talk about “Hamsters”.  No…lets talk about “porn” instead.  Ah screw it.  What about the word “spiritual”. 

Well, I can’t decide.  But thanks to Jim, or is it The Movie Whore?  Or even “Dude.  Do NOT do that.  It is starting to smell”, I don’t have to choose.  Because they are the words he gave me to write a story about.  It is also worth mentioning that Jim has a soft spot for tweezers.  Or is it he has a soft spot because of tweezers?  It is hard to know, and better that you don’t ask him.

So lets see where these words take us.

It is the year 2012.  Religion as we knew it is gone.  A cascading effect removed all known religion from the world and replaced it with a new world order.  A new God is in town.   His name is HamsterTron.  Which is short for Hamster and Trust me, with me, it is always on.  The second part of which made no sense at all.  None.  Thus shortening it to Tron.

The cascading effect was due in part to a secret film of the pope.   In the years preceding the effect, many stars sex lives had been posted on the Internet.  This was not the case for the pope.  He did have a tape released, but it was not a sex tape.  His was much worse.  Dubbed the “GorgonzolaGate” tape, the pope was seen munching down on the blue veined firm salty cheese.  This infuriated his followers.  It was not long before the Muslim community followed suit after seeing their spiritual leaders amongst the munchers of the blue veined hooligan of the cheese world.

This led to total disarray in the now emptying religious world.  Everyone moved over to Buddhism, but soon realised the reason he was so fat was because he did not do any exercise (Sy: I know that one!) and so the religion became known as the “if you are too fat and lazy to exercise, I am too fat and lazy to follow you” religion.  Then they realised it was because of the amount of cheese that buddha had eaten.  Yup.  Buddha was also a secret blue cheese eater.

People wandered the streets wondering where to go.  Who to follow.  Bonnie Tyler re-released “Holding out for a hero”.  The lines “Where have all the good men gone And where are all the gods? Where’s the street-wise Hercules To fight the rising odds?” suddenly made more sense then ever because it didn’t the first time she released it.  Also, no one ever reported if she indeed found her hero.  Maybe not, thus the need for a re-release.

And then it arrived.  A white knight upon a fiery steed.  HamsterTron.  (I promise not to use anymore bonnie tyler lyrics).  He walked in to the broken down religious world like a cowboy stocked up on anti constipation tablets and realising the public toilets are all shut.  People saw his clenched look.  His face squahsed up like a gurning champion.  With the disarray they were in, they took the clenched buttocks and face like a disgruntled bulldog as the look of a deity ready to explode all over them with religious goodness.  People flocked to him for inspiration.  He responded.  Writing a book full of contradictions and false promises, he called it the “Biran”.  This had nothing to do with the fact his middle name was Brian and he couldn’t spell.  HamsterTron called his “religion” Musliality.  He appointed himself the spiritual leader and ran the religion all on his own. 

But with the history of HamsterTron never looked in to, people did not realise his murky past.  Why would someone whose real name was Nadir Brian CoughWarbler change it to HamsterTron?  HamsterTron was an ex porn star.  Ashamed of his murky past, he decided to butch up his image and get away from the porn industry by renaming himself.  HamsterTron was also Italian, where he grew up in a small town near Milan.  His father was a cheese maker.  A blue cheese maker actually.  Infact, the town he grew up in was called “Gorgonzola”.  

Nicknamed “The porn starola from Gorgonzola”, he had moved on to better things with the name change and people never realised his past and how technically, he was the anti-christ.  The harbinger of all things bad.  Or good, if you like cheese.  The religious world was now under the control of everything they had for years been told to hate.  Which was different to not realising they were already under that control their entire lives but the leaders not admitting it.

So there you have it.  If you follow religion, don’t bother.  The house always wins.

 

It’s almost a joke.

Knock Knock.

Whose there?

It’s the police.  *SMASH*  GET ON THE FLOOR.  NOBODY MOVE.

and in they come.  But then, if you are a woman in your 50’s and your house is a dirty drug den, what do you expect to happen?  Oh.  Except in this case, the woman was 100% innocent and they got the wrong house.  Which is an easy mistake to make after watching the house you think has the drugs in, only to go to a completely different house on “raid day”.

But luckily, the police did say “We will ensure the damage to the property is repaired”.  Which is awfully nice of them.   They also said that they stopped the raid quickly after they realised they were in the wrong place.  How did they realise?  Was it the sight of a woman in her 50’s cutting open a bag of knitting wool rather then cutting a line of the drug of the day?  And my favourite line from the story was “Officers will be reviewing what went wrong in order to make sure this doesn’t happen again.” Which is quite the line.  Let me help you out with this one.  Someone really stupid didn’t do their job.  There you go.  Or maybe he raided the right house on his own earlier in the day and was “in a different place” in his head?

But this smashing in to houses thing has happened before.  And it happened to me.  For instance, I once ordered a Chinese takeaway.  Innocent?  You would think so.  But when 5 ninjas crashed through my window armed with bags of takeaway goodness, I was less then happy.  I have a doorbell.  Not that it works, but did they try?  Actually, maybe they did.  How would I know if I didn’t hear it if it is broken?  OK, so I am getting away from the actual thing here and I admit I *may* have been at fault on that one occasion.  Don’t tell my wife I admitted to maybe being wrong.  I will never live it down and will be reminded of the previous 1000 times I told her it isn’t my fault.  Oh.  What is that on the floor by me?  It has a label on it which reads “Can of worms.  Do not open”.  Huh.  Shall I open it?

There was another time when I ordered pizza.  Some Italian dude on a motorbike and wearing sunglasses and an expensive suit turned up.  He didn’t have my pizza on him.  Why?  Because he said it didn’t make him look as cool as he actually is.  So he took my money and ran.  I on the otherhand, ordered another Chinese takeaway.  I stood by the door the whole time waiting for it to be delivered.

Lets just say that I intend to never order a police raid.  It looks like I will never get it and my neighbour will.  But then, I don’t like my neighbour, so maybe…just maybe…  I am pretty sure he is a criminal anyway.  I base this on the investigative work of “I just don’t like him and he doesn’t like me.  But I am nice and he is an arrogant arse”.  If you are telling me I need more then that to make that assumption, then we should part ways now and come back in the next post.  Yeah, please don’t leave for good.  You are one of my trusty 3 readers. 

Oh goody!  You stayed!  Come here, gis a hug.  Lets forget about the last paragraph eh?  All that “move on to the next post” was crazy talk.  Lets just never talk about it again huh?

So moving along swiftly.  You can read the original news story for the above HERE if that is your bag.  It isn’t my bag though.  I have a nice ManBag.  And fetching it is too.  Did I mention my kisses are like strawberries?  Yeah.  Ask my wife!  The only downside is that I think she may be allergic to strawberries.  Or is that just a reason to not ki….ah man.  That cant be good.

Did I mention I haven’t been well for a few days?  It doesn’t show does it? I mean, the last couple of posts have all been above board and stuff? Yeah?  Are you saying that to make me feel better?  I get the idea Jim isn’t gonna be so nice.  The rest of you will though.  Any visitors from the NHS reading this?  Can I get some treatment?  I pay my taxes you know!

 

Stuff

You can call me lazy.  Hell, you can call me Shirley if you want.  But rather then write a long post about whatever strange weird stuff is in my head, I thought I would just do small snippets of recent news. 

Yeah I know.  I thought I was awesomely different too! 

According to THISnews story, a 13 year old American boy has blown up 213 balloons with his nose.  This is almost the exact reverse to Amy Winehouse who has inhaled 213 lines of coke with her nose.  In unrelated news, I have no time for Amy Winehouse.

And in THISnews story, it says that Bill Crosby is recording a Hip Hop album.  I can’t even contemplate going any further with this one.  Although it does say he will not do any vocals on the album.  So.  Erm.  What is his involvement apart from sounding like a stupid news story?

But it would be crazy to stop there, when you can READabout a Marilyn Monroe sex tape selling for $1.5Million.  But before you think that someone dug up her body and did some sick stuff, it was recorded when she was still alive. Now, don’t get me wrong, but the last time I checked, in 1835 or whenever she was alive, they didn’t exactly have camcorders or mobile phones with cameras on.  So just how bad a quality would that film have been?  Was it Marilyn or a semi-attractive polar bear with lipstick on? 

Crazy?  You may think.  But did you know you can lose 10 stone from eating baked beans?  Yeah.  Really.  Not shown in the news story is the gas masks all the people around him were wearing.  You might be thin, but damn I bet you smelt bad.  I went on a diet once.  It was one of those fad diets the stars do.  It was the same one as Sylvester Stallone did to pick up weight for that cop film he did.  The Fatkins diet I think it was.  Lets just say I didn’t lose any weight.  I also now get 2 seats on a plane when I fly.  So in reality, the camera really DOES make you lose 50 pounds.  I am now 5’8″.  Wide.

 

 

 

It is a chocolatey sideshow of prickly goodness

My apologies for my absence.  Man flu you know.  Horrible it is.  Ache I do.  Sneeze lots I do.  Lose ability to write proper sentence, happen has.  Infact, I still feel rough as sandpaper toilet roll, so dont go expecting the usual rubbish.  This could well hit a new low! 

So.  Whats the story?  Well, Pinky (who it seems is has a mad hamster) emptied the contents of her mind, and the loose change equated to the words Maltesers (a chocolate sweet), Sideshow Bob (if you don’t know…), Ladyboy (mmm.  Tasty) and Porcupine (prickly) to write a story about.  Luckily, Pinky is a dedicated follower of fashion rock music, so I can let her off of the words by making up for it in musical taste.

Right.  For the benefit of several readers, here is what I came up with while high on flu capsules:

Many years ago in a sandy desert in Africa lived a young porcupine called Corky.  Corky was well known in the porcupine world for his magic tricks, balancing acts and ability to fire quils from his behind. His favourite trick was to fire the quills at Maltesers and then after the show, they would all sit around a fire eating maltesers on sticks, while singing songs about hippies.  His abilities seemed endless.  All the other children would follow him around, asking him to do tricks for them.

Because of how pointy and spiky they are, the porcupines were being hunted to near extinction by a mad group of Zulu’s who were hunting them for there quils to make fetching head ornaments out of. 

Being a bunch of porcupines, they were quite poor so there was a lack of Internet connections and no newspapers or TV reporters passing through, the porcupines realised they needed to get their voices heard.  To have someone help stop the Zulu’s and let the porcupine population grow back to it’s original size.

Corky, being the ever entertainer, was picked to go forth and spread the word. 

This was easy for Corky.  Join a circus, travel the lands and tell people of the injustices in his land.  So he packed his prickly case and off he went in search for a circus.

Sitting in a bar one night weary from his long travels, he sat drinking tequila shots.  An attractive young lady at the end of the bar kept watching Corky, and after several more shots, Corky invited her over.  The barman gave Corky a knowing “Don’t do it dude.  Really…she is NOT what she seems” look.  Corky pushed on with the young lady.

Corky: Hi, I am Corky the Porcupine.  What is your name sweet thang?

Young lady:  It’s Bob.  My friends call me Sideshow Bob.  It is short for Tracy. But you seem kinda cute, and I just LOVE your prickly bits, so you can call me Sideshow Bob.

Corky:  Well, Sideshow Bob, what brings you here?

Bob:  I am looking for a circus.  I have just split up from my husband, and it seems like a good outlet.

Corky was very happy to hear this (not that she broke up with her husband, although he had some naughty ideas in his head), and after a few more drinks, they decided to hit the sack and the next morning they would continue their journeys together.  Bob had a car, so it was handy as Corky had been hitch hiking. Unfortunately, Corky had a flatulence problem, and while walking away from the car at a rest stop, he managed to puncture one of the tyres.  Bob was not happy, but realising she had a partner for the journey forgave him and let him continue the journey if corky corked it.

A few days later, they had found a circus, and were welcomed with open arms.  Sideshow Bob became just that.  A sideshow.  She would entertain in between acts and keep the crowd pleased.  Corky became a master with his quills.  His used his act of firing quills at maltesers attached to a spinning wheel and he would fire quills from his behind and impale the maltesers.  The crowd loved him, and he became a star act for the circus.  This, even after a misfiring quill found it’s way in to the ringmasters behind in a freak “shouldn’t have had beans for lunch” accident. Would Corky ever learn that eating certain foods caused problems and he should remain corked up between acts? 

But with fame comes popularity.  Female fans would want him, and soon, Corky was beseiged by women. Being young and naive, he let go of his morales and accepted the advances of the women.

One woman in particular who went by the name of Toy managed to get in to Corky’s head, and Corky invited her over to his tent.  They sat making cocktails, and with the spirits they had there, they made a “Sex with a porcupine”.  “Fancy making a different porcupine now?” Corky said. 

While getting a little steamy, Corky realised she had her own quill.  Just the one, and it couldn’t be fired from her body.  Infact, Corky wasn’t sure it was a girl at all anymore.  Why was this quill tucked between her legs?  And why did she have that lump in her throat?  And she even had a couple of maltesers where her quill was!  Was this a tucked back treat that Corky wasnt expecting, or had she lost a lot of weight recently and there was some loose flesh to still be sorted out?  Nope, it was a man.  A scarily attractive femanine one.

Corky was horrified.  He kicked her/him/it out of his tent and called to Sideshow Bob who came running.  Corky told her the whole story, and they realised that Toy had also been with Bob…but with “his” quill roaming freely.  Upon hearing this, they decided that the circus was really just for weird freaks and went their own way, starting up a mobile library which contained books on how to check for any “tucking back” that may be happening, completely forgetting the experiences of the porcupine population back home.

The moral of the story?  Well it is 3 fold really.  Don’t write posts while on flu tablets.  Don’t join the circus and become famous as it makes you abandon your roots.  Make sure you check for an adams apple before you take them to your room if you are a man looking for a woman.

Right.  I am going back to my vegetative state of laying down with a nose as crusty as Kevin the Crustaceon and sleeping a lot.  I will be back when I feel better.

 

I have decided…

…that it is about time I told some of you where to go.  Because I think you need to hear it.  I and I am going to tell you why.

I spend all my spare  some of my time surfing.   This is a small list of some of the places I go.  And please feel free to add to the comments section any sites you may think I should visit.   A recommendation is always the best way.  (oh, and if I haven’t listed your site but come on a regular basis, chances are it will be in part 2 of this post.  If I did them all in one post, I would be writing for hours!  I surf a lot!)

As you will see, I hang around with people well above my station.

Floog:  Well this is as good a place to start as any.    What can I say about Mr Floog?  Well, I suggest you get your butt over to his siteand have a look.  The content is random in a non-random kind of way.  If that makes sense.  Being English, and a LOT older then me (ok, like 10 years or something), he sometimes writes posts about stuff that I remember from growing up.  Sometimes his site can be a trip down memory lane like that.  In Other posts you will find quite awesome poetry.  And then another time you will read a story he has written.  See?  Random.  But I personally think his writing ability is genius, and it fills me with a lot of jealousy.  But then, read that as a good thing.  If I am jealous of you, it is because I wish I could do the things you do.  So go over there and read “Bloodstone”.  A mini story over 11 parts.  Oh, and if you are in the know and have contacts, get the man a goddamn contract to put his words in to a book, and on to a shelf at Waterstones.  I mean it.  Go to his sitewhen you have time on your hands.  When I say time on your hands, I mean that you can sit and read for 20 minutes.  Don’t speed read it.   (I should also mention his photography abilities, but ya know, he will get a big head, and I am already going a green colour)

Next up, I have a site which equates to the cardinal number of 4 plus 1.  I am trying to work out if this means that the person in question has a quite awesome quantity of voices in her head which combine to become 1, or that I need to look up some alternative meanings to her site.  This is Tamera over at Pentads.  Tamera has this annoying habit of making me enter comments in a serious manner.  How she does that in itself is a damn mystery.  Are these voices of hers also in corporal form and visit me in ways I do not realise?  I do not know.  But I do know that outside of the serious thought provoking posts that she does, she also has an awesome wit which appears in many a post.  You can also see this in the comments section on my quite awesome site which you are reading at the moment.  Unlike Floog who needs to get published, Tamera already has been which means the green colouring I was finally getting rid of after writing about Floog, is now back.  Thanks Tamera.  I recommend paying her site a visit when you want to read something to make you think.  And also note her photography.  She stalks animals.  And has one of the coolest “Gardens” at the back of her house. 

Next up we have Don.  The issue I have with Don is that his siteis funnier then mine.  And he makes it look so easy where I work hard for a few laughs.  Apart from the fact he is too clever, one of the things I love about Don’s site is his ability to use pictures, and then have a word with photoshop and then change them.  Take THIS post for example.  Genius.  Pure genius.  Maybe Don doesn’t do the pictures.  Maybe someone else does them and he requests what to make them look like.  Either way, it is his idea and the posts are quite awesome.  So get over there, and leave a comment mentioning that my site is better.  It might be a lie, but he doesn’t have to know that.

And lastly for this post we get to The Movie Whore.  Or Jim as he is also known.  And sometimes as The Dudes Dad.  It is obvious Jim has a few too many names going on, which leads me to think he has a serious amount of alter ego’s, or he is on the run.  From who could be an interesting question.  I would ask, but I don’t know how far in to his seedy underworld I want to go.  Jim has 2 sites.  He only had 1 before today.  Greedy?  Maybe.  But he has an uncanny ability to know WAY too much about films.  But in a good way.  His new site “The Movie Whore” has just launched and he has some great plans for the site.  If movies, or certainly the background of movies, is your thing, take a wander over.  But should you want plain insanity, then head over to his main site HERE.  The reason I enjoy going to his site is because it is the actual definition of random.  And me and Jim see very eye to eye on pretty much everything in life.  Especially that he absolutely ADORES the new series (remake) of Battlestar Galactica like I do.  He admits it in the comments secion of THIS post.

Hang on.  So they all write well, two are a dab hand at photography, one likes to manipulate photos and the other has delusions that he is photogenic.  And I said about the cardinal number of 4 plus 1.  So this is the holy trinityfourity making up 1 fun bit of surfing.

Coming next time are…well, if I told you that Anca, Jane etc, you would know wouldn’t you!

You were searching for what? Part Deux

***Don’t forget the COMPETITION.  Time is running out.***

Having watched the incoming Google searches the last couple of days, I figured it was time to get the ball rolling on part two of the “You were searching for what?” series.  Same rule applies.  The text in the between the ” ” have found my site.  Obviously feel free to find out for yourself if you don’t believe me.  Go on.  Be like that.  Do I care?  Well maybe a little because that is very untrusting of you. 

I just want to know “WHY!”.  You will too I think.  Here we go:

Dear Sy, Can you get “Hamsters that see dead people”?

Uncle Sy Says:  Being that hamsters can’t actually speak English (or French, German etc), it is hard to know.  The chances are you get very drunk night and move things around which is why you think you are haunted.  But it is worth mentioning that the hamster may be possessed.  If it has either red or black eyes, it is possessed and will come for you in the night.

Dear Sy, My “Hamster has flies”

Uncle Sy says:  So do my jeans and work trousers.  So get over yourself and your oh so great pet.  Your hamster ain’t so impressive now is it!

Dear Sy, I “thought hamster was dead”

Uncle Sy says:  If it is moving, breathing, farting, blinking etc it is NOT dead.  If it is stiff like a post and you can flick it without it being bothered it is dead.  OK?  Get it?  Stiff Hamster = DEAD.  Everything else = ALIVE.  It ain’t rocket science.

Dear Sy, Is there such a thing as a “hamster church”?

Uncle Sy says:  Following the Jedi religion is a much more sane thing to do.  Coz you realise that a hamster on a cross would just look real stupid.  Like you.

Dear Sy, I heard that you are “gorgeous sexy”

Uncle Sy says:  Who am I to deny it!  If you ask my wife that question, she will say “flubber lubber lubber” and then dribble.  Why?  Because I take her breath and ability to talk away because I am so hot.  Or I smell real bad.  hmmm.  I should get that checked out.

Dear Sy, “i want a tail attached to my body”

Uncle Sy says:  Are you male?  If so, you already have a damn tail.  OK, it might be a little stubby, but do what I do.  Blame the cold weather.  If you are actually a woman, you can get one.  It costs a little money though, and you will have to go by the name “Steven” after the op.

Dear Sy, Can I see “pooh bear honey pot pictures”?

Uncle Sy says:  Nope.  You can’t.  Since they used the honey pot trap to confirm he was cheating on Eeyore, he has put a high court ban on the images being shown to the public. 

Dear Sy, I want a “hamster up the bum”

Uncle Sy says:  I hear that opening a drawer, and then gently lowering yourself until your nuts are hanging in the drawer and then having someone slam the drawer shut, is as much fun.  Leave the damn hamster alone you freak.  I hope he bites you on the colon or wanders up to your kidney and sets up home.

Dear Sy, I have “belly button cheese”

Uncle Sy says:  I have mature cheddar cheese.  I think you need to use Ritz Crackers for belly button cheese though.  The others make it taste funny.

Dear Sy, “Would music affect a hamster on a wheel”

Uncle Sy says:  Interesting question.  I tell you what, put some Rammstein on first, and then change it to some garage.  Then shortly after, put Celine Dion on.  If the hamster bites you on the arse next time you pick it up, you have your answer.  Oh, and if you ever make a hamster have to endure Celine Dion, I will come and slap you.

Dear Sy, “is it ok for hamsters to have milk”

Uncle Sy says:  Cow milk: Yes.  Chickens milk: No.  Your own bodily milk: Stop it.

Dear Sy, My “hamster almost dead”

Uncle Sy says: Well?  What do you expect me to do?  I am not gonna suck on its nose in the name of bringing it back to life or something.  It happens.  Get over it.  Chances are it inbred itself half to death anyway and you have a ton of them, so just go play with one of them instead.

Dear Sy, “can french fried kill hamster”?

Uncle Sy says:  Sorry?  Do you mean French FrieS or FrieD?  Because if you give it a french fries, it will probably be fine, and will wish to wash it down with a milkshake.  If you dip it in boiling hot oil, it may have issues with clinging on to life.  But if you do decide to give it a go, let me know how crispy it is!  You may need to dip it in batter mix first.

Dear Sy, Is there such a thing as a “hamsters lifeline”?

Uncle Sy says:  I am not sure.  But there should be because some of these sickos above want to stick them in there various orrifices, in boiling oil, feed it chicken milk and send them to church.  No hamster should be subjected to any of that list.  I will set it up.  “Call HamsterHelp on 1-800-HAMSTER”

Dear Sy, Can you tell me the “difference hump lump”?

Uncle Sy says:  No.  Because you smell of hamster cheese.

Dear Sy, Is there such a thing as a “Stupid people restaurant”?

Uncle Sy says:  You should bloody well know!  Or are you asking for directions?  it is on the island you have somehow escaped from.

Dear Sy, “why have some camels got one hump and some have two”?

Uncle Sy says:  For the same reason you are plain stupid and I am a goodlooking hunk of man.  Some guys get all the luck.

Dear Sy, “my wife made me do it”

Uncle Sy says:  You have no balls.  Oh, and you did it wrong.  Do it again.  She obviously knows better then you.

Dear Sy, “I can hear the wheel turning”

Uncle Sy says:  You have eyes.  Open them and you can SEE the damn thing turning.  Want me to take a photo and record the sound so you can live with the excitement for a long time to come?

 

So there you have it. They all came in the last 2 days.  I can see this being a regular occurance! 

Ooohhh… A Line! *JUMP!*

As young Mr Floog mentioned in a comment to yesterdays post, I had crossed the line.  The post in question was regarding sucking sweaty socks.  This, from a man who had me shot in the head in a post he wrote HERE.  So I figured while I am already over this side of the line, I would stay for just one more post. 

Do you wanna know why?

Because when you read a story like I read a minute ago, you have to write about it.  Mr Floog, this one is for you my friend.   I promise to head back to the other side of the line after this, but you will see from the source material, it is hard to write a post about it and stay on the “safe” side of the line.

Ever had the urge to make coffee out of your own poop?  I am guessing probably not.  What about from someone else’s poop?  No?  Thought not. 

OK.  What about animal poop?  Starting to get more keen?  No?  Not even a little? Come on…

Right.  Let me put it this way.  If I was to feed the coffee beans to an animal and then make coffee from it’s poop?  Even remotely interested?  What if I told you that if you did this, you could sell it for £50 a shot and people would actually buy it?

And then I got your attention.  Hello!

Yes that is right.  Unlike Starbucks where the coffee just tastes like crap, there is a legitimate coffee made from the Kopi Luwak beans which are eaten by a cat-like Asian palm civet, pooped out, cleaned and roasted.  You then drink the finished result. 

The words “Yummy!” and “Interesting!” do NOT come to mind.  The words “Disgusting” and “Drinking roasted cat crap” DO come to mind.

Oh, and the beans are hand roasted for around 12 minutes to maximise the potential of each coffee. 

Hand roasted?  So is some dude just squeezing them really tight while standing near a fire or what?  And if he hasn’t washed his hands…well.. you just enjoy your cup of coffee OK?

I should also mention that that a roast master who climbed the mountain to find out how this works is called Mr Gross.  Naturally. 

OK.  So I understand there is a shortage of food in the world.  But I have seen and smelt what has left my cats behind.  And you know what?  She eats roasted meat cat pouches.  There is no freakin way I am eating re-fried poop.  Re-roasted poop.  POOP.  I am not gonna eat nor drink it.

But.  Here is where I stay over the line, so I apologise for the next piece of text.  Should someone want a unique flavour coffee, I will happily eat chicken or beef or whatever you want your coffee to taste like.  I will roast any “left overs” that may come out, and ship it out freeze dried to you.  It will cost you a LOT less then £50 a shot.

If this is not your thing, why not wash down your £50 Cup o’Dung with a nice expensive £85 sandwich?

Right.  I am off to get a coffee and drink it on the safe side of the line.

It is not exactly mushroom material. But it should be.

Stinky socks. Toe fungus. Harold.  You see, I ask for words to write a post about, but I also enjoy the reading just what on earth is in someones head.  And in the head of Kay Four, (Kay Four?  As in Kay Four is better then Jeff Five?  I should Ask Jeeves) there seems to be an athletes foot issue.  Is it that she feels the need to run, but her feet are sweating too much, or is it that she is finding a reason to not do this exercise?  I don’t know fellow readers.  I just know she gave me words to write about.  So I will.  And the result is this:

In the middle of a big field stood a mushroom.  To his family, he was known as Colin.  To the rest of the world he was known as Magic because it was amazing how high he could jump.  Being a mushroom and all.   He had aspirations of being a basketball player because of his height and abilities though.

Harold, the farmer who owned the field realised the potential in Colin, and spared him from being an ingredient in a dodgy green thing.  Salad I think they call it.  I wouldn’t know of such things.  Salad dodger?  Maybe.. 

Sending Colin away to college, he became a big star in the local basketball arena. 

Then one day…

Because of a horrific accident involving a sweet and sour sauce and some noodles, Colin’s life was cut short.  A seat in the garden was dedicated to “Magic Mushroom”.

Accident?  Really?  How do you accidentally become cooked in a nice sauce, and subsequently eaten with a side of noodles?  Who was the fiend who had done this?

DNA is without doubt the single most useful tool of the investigators, after beating a confession out of any random person.  Choosing DNA over an illegal beating, Colin’s clothes were checked.  Upon their findings, Harold was arrested.

But what drove Harold to make a tasty dish of Colin?  The police delved in to the murky underworld of Harold, the mushroom farmer.

It seemed that Harold and Colin were part of a large male group called GROSS (Grievous Respire Of Stinky Socks).  The group were known to send other members pairs of their sweaty stinky socks which were generally sniffed, sucked on, worn or anything that the receiver wished to do with the socks. 

Harold always enjoyed using the socks to the max.  Sucking them several times a day, and leaving them warm and wet with saliva  to dry naturally, ready to be worn or sucked on again later.  Each pair of socks were sent back to the originator after 7 days of use.

It seems that because of Colin’s ability at basketball and his constant practising, his feet would sweat as much as a turkey realising it is December and none of his family are answering the phone.  But because of his poor hygiene, he had toe fungus which practically grey Colin a whole new body.  But this toe fungus rubbed off on to his socks and Harold had been munching down on fungus filled socks causing ulcers, warts and a very itchy tongue. 

Rage filled Harold, and he extracted his revenge on Colin.  Murdering him in the name of making the tasty dish.

Harold got an 8 year prison sentence for the crime.

The socks were sent from another member of GROSS.  Colin had not sent any socks for some time as he was concentrating on his promising career.  *DUN DUN DUUUUUUNNNNN* 

 

A competition you say?

I feel like a giggle.  And I feel generous.  Kinda.  It depends on your definition of generous.

What would you do for one of these:

Answers on a postcard, or by comment.  If you do whatever it is and is deemed funny or original enough, I will send you a T-Shirt*.  You can supply the size and colour you want if you win.  Or you can have a cap instead.  Hell, you can have a signed picture of me holding a beer for all I care!

Should you be of the shy kind, and do not wish to have a photo of you with a rubber glove on your head singing Kylie’s hit “I should be so lucky” put on the site, then you could try the second way of winning.

The second way is this: 

As you saw, people found the site from Google by searching some weeeeeird stuff.  So if you can give me a highly unique “How did it manage to find the site from that!” moment, that will also be entered in to the competition.  So if you are so bored it is driving you crazy, there are some 90 posts full of goodies on this site.  See what you can find!  The result needs to be on the 1st page on Google.

So.  What would you do?  The competition runs until the 25th April 2008.  I on the other hand do not run.  Too fat.

Oh, and tell your friends.  Or your enemies.  Email them and show them the post. 

Because I want more readers?  Maybe.  OK, so yeah.  I do.  But I would also like to see how many people we can get on this competition.  After all, everyone loves a freebie.

 

* – Final design may change a little.  Maybe not.  Depends. On what?  None of your business.

 

The very messed up history of a word.

A special thanks to Mr Owusu who supplied the words to confuse the hell out of me and make me write a story about.   He was one of the first people I spoke to in Bloggerland.  Now, all these long and winding 5 months down the road, he goes and gives me words like Philosophy, Bum and Antidisestablishmentarianism to write a story.  Thanks for that bud.  But I asked for the words, so I can barely complain.  Although I will.  But complaining is what I do.  You know what else I do?  Write poor stories.  Like this one:

Growing up, I had little interest in history.  As I got older, I had a little less interest in history.  I currently have a pack for crisps and a can of cola by me.  Soon they will be history.  I won’t look back.  Why?  Coz that is just the kinda guy I am.  My philosophy is to look forwards and not to what could have been.

But there is one time in history that is worth a mention.  A time of enlightenment.  Of philosophers just “geting it wrong”.   Here are 3 quotes:

“Beauty is truth.  Truth is beauty” – This was said by an ugly man.  A man who used the “Real beauty is on the inside” line to chat up women because he was just too ugly to get a girl because of his hideously larger then normal head.

“It is good to have an end to journey towards, but it is the journey that matters, in the end.” – This was said by a woman who ended up being a Bond girl as philosophy just was not her thing in the end.  See what that got ya!  Naughty Ursula.

“I’m a lumberjack and I don’t care.” – This was said by a lumberjack.  Who was he?  Why did he not care?  His words amaze me to a level seldom reached.  His genius lives on longer then any of the previous two quotes.

I am going to concentrate on the lumberjack.  On a journey he took which had an end but will remain in history for all time.  For the purposes of this story, I shall make up a name for this lumberjack.  I have picked Paul.  Paul Bunyan. 

Paul had a “thing”.  His “thing” was going to establishments that married men and men of a serious nature should not go to.  Why?  Because these places are illegal.  Well, in this country they are.  They are generally frequented by bums.  By the decay of western civilisation.  And talking of decay, have you brushed your teeth today?  It is important.  Not to this story, but hygeine is important people!!

Pauls favourite establishment was called “Di’s Establishment”.  There, you could get anything you wanted for a price.  Cries of “I’ll show ya me bum for 40 pence” followed by “You can cheek a look at ma bum for 38 pence luvvy” echoed the halls of Di’s establishment. 

Then, one day, Paul was robbed by one of the ladies at Di’s establishment.  He became very anti Di’s establishment and decided to no longer go there.  Infact, so upset was Paul, that he studied hard between lumberjacking and became a politician.  He wanted to take Di’s establishment down.  He started his own geo-political party called the “Anti Di’s Establishment”.  He found that by only having the purest of people in his party, he could make the Anti Di’s Establishment party an Aryan party.  Thus becoming an Anti Di’s Establishment Aryan party.

Paul, deciding that now having the purest party in the land, started a full scale war on Di’s Establishment.  He forced them out of business, leaving all the bums in the establishment out on the street.  It is not known exactly how he managed this because most politicians are visitors to these places, but he realised that with the party he had created, and with everyone having the same coherent ideas, he had indeed created an “ism”.  The focus of the Anti Di’s Establishment Aryan Ism’s was strong, and the party cleaned up the land.

Years later, the political party he had created moved in to religion.  The church, realising the power that Paul had created, gave it’s highest honor to him, and took his party name and added it to church history.  The word is now used for a different meaning, as happens with a lot of words over time.   

And that, my friends, is the true story of where AntiDisEstablishmentArianIsm comes from.  Ignore all the BS Google tells you.  This is the real deal.  How do I know this?  Well I know everything. Right?

 

Not bad.  I wrote this in under 15 minutes!!  A new record for me.