More throwaways

Attention Reader: the following are a batch of throwaway posts that I just don't have the heart t0 throw away. I'm putting the finishing touches on a new book. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy these throwaways. Don't judge them too harshly; they were bound for the recycle bin, after all. Instead, think of them as leftovers. They're not as good as the Sunday meal, but they still make a decent midnight snack -- if you're hungry enough.

Limits and the battle of the sexes

The differences between the sexes has been analyzed to death and most of it is crap, but every once in a while a genuine difference will surface. For example, men love to find the limits of things. Just how many dishes can I pack into this dishwasher and they still come out reasonably clean? How many days without showering can I go before someone else notices? How much nacho cheese can I pour on these chips without spilling it all over the 7 Eleven. Can my jeep make it over that mountain? How many times can I wear this shirt before it must go to the cleaners? How many lap dances will it take for me to silence the homosexual voices in my head?

You won't catch women experimenting with the above! They don’t test the limits of things just for curiosity's sake. They're too practical. Limits are a man's thing. We like testing the limits of things. Sometimes we even test the limits of our own foolishness.

Falling Rocks

Have you seen those “Watch for falling rocks” signs on the freeway? Why do they bother to post those? What should I watch them do? I can either watch them crash through my windshield at 85 mph, or watch them vault my car 20 feet in the air as I drive over them. Either way, watching for them isn't going to make things any safer. By the time you see them, I assure you it's too late. If there's even a remote possibility of falling rocks, screw the sign. Put up some damn walls!

I don't like road signs that have a picture you have to decipher. Highways in the border states, for example, have pictures of a family running together. After mowing a few on I-10 I figured out that they weren't pedestrians without the right of way, but illegal aliens fleeing the border patrol. Boy did I feel stupid. But it wasn't my fault. If they would have posted “Beware of undocumented pedestrians seeking a better life for themselves and their families by dodging border patrol,” I would have at least slowed down.

I hope these pictograms don’t become more popular. I don't want to drive past a rest area sign on the highway and see a silhouette of a guy taking a leak. Or worse, a lodging sign that shows a the outline of a trucker and a lady of the evening in bed together.

Picture-signs confuse me. I don't always know what they mean. I saw a picture of a pistol once and thought I was passing Phil Spector’s house. It turns out it was really a gun show off of I-17. I say we stick to text and let the illiterate people guess what the hell the signs mean, not the other way around.

Free the cars

When I drive by those trucks that haul all the cars, I feel sorry for the cars. It's like they've been grounded from playing with the other cars, like a motor vehicle time-out. The only time I don't feel sorry for the cars is when I'm driving directly behind the truck. It always looks like that one car on the top row is ready to shake loose and sail into my windshield. Why is that top car in the back always angled down so it's pointing directly at the poor guy driving directly behind the truck? Have you noticed those trucks don't have a “keep a safe distance” bumper sticker like other trucks? They don't need one. They've got 4,000 pounds of metal-death dangling off the back to ward off any intruders.

You CAN judge a book by its cover

You can tell a lot about who's driving by what they're driving. When you're zipping down the street, you see the cars around you, but you can't see the person driving. It leaves you to wonder who's driving -- boy or girl, young or old, freak or dweeb, that kind of thing. Sooner or later, however, you're going to arrive at a red light together, at which time you can take a glance into the car and see whom you're sharing the road with. The car lets you know what you're in for. You can't judge a book by its cover, but you sure as hell can judge a driver by his car. If, for example, you pull up next to an monster pick-up truck with a cartoon character urinating on another cartoon character on the rear window, you'll see a big, white, tattooed, spittoon mutherfucker in a “Fuck Everybody” baseball cap. It's pretty obvious there's not a whole lot of I.Q. points to go with that hemi. Minivans equal soccer moms. Porsche? Middle-aged bald guy. In fact, that's what a Porsche really is -- a $65,000 toupee.

Then there's that wild card in the car-driver guessing game. The old, smashed-up, 4-door sedan, primer/Bondo mobile. You just don't know what you're in for with that one, do you? In fact, it's probably a good idea not to look at all. Eye contact is not a good idea. If you’re on a date, this is the point when you’ll hear her say, “Oh my God. Don’t look. I think this is my ex-boyfriend and he’s crazy.” Keep your eyes straight forward and punch the accelerator when you see the green light.

Be a good sport

Do you want to have some fun with a sporting goods shop? Here's how. Call them and ask the clerk for something outrageous, something you know they won't have, like a spice rack, a “Fonzie-style” leather jacket, or non-alcoholic beer nuts. Be creative. Then, after they jerk you around by putting you on hold and pretending to look, and they pick up and say, “Sorry, sir. We don't carry those,” respond with, “In that case, I'd like to price a shotgun. And what time do you get off tonight?”

The injustice of it all

Have you ever exercised on a piece of fitness equipment (e.g., a stationary bike, ski machine, treadmill, etc.) that measures the calories you burn?

If so, you've probably noticed how much work you do and how few calories you burn. Exercise is like a minimum wage job: you work your balls off and take home jack squat.

Four Oreo cookies (the currency I use for the exercise/calorie exchange rate) are 220 calories. You have to jog for 20 minutes on a treadmill to burn that 220 calories. Twenty minutes. And let's face facts. Who stops at four Oreos? I can rip through a row of Oreos like a wood chipper.

I think a fair rate of exchange would be one Oreo per minute of treadmill. That way, you could kill off a row of those bitches and negate the effects with a brief, 20-minute jog. Am I asking too much?

Folks, I love my Oreo cookies, but I'm not running a goddamn marathon to subsidize my habit. I'm just going to have to start purging like those Olson twins.

Turn your head and cough

When the doctor checks for a hernia, he asks you to turn your head and cough. I understand why you have to cough (to increase intra-abdominal pressure). But why do you have to turn your head? I think the doctor just doesn't want you to see him feeling a man's balls.

Turn your head and cough? Sure, doc. While I'm at it, why don't you bob your head and yawn!

Expressing yourself

Whenever someone wants to describe the sex act delicately, they use the term "expressing yourself sexually" or "expressing your sexuality." These euphemisms often accompany discussions on homosexuality, trans-sexuality or unconventional sexual behavior. It softens the blow.

Screw delicacy. When I'm eating, I'm not "expressing my hunger." I'm eating! When I'm drinking, I'm not "expressing my thirstiness." I'm drinking diet soda. And when having sex, I'm not "expressing my sexuality." I'm fucking. So give me the five minutes I need to finish, thank you very much.

Why is this a bad thing?

Here's an old excerpt from The Drudge Report:

"As the whiskey and wine he drank during a fraternity initiation began to kill Gordie Bailey, some of his fraternity brothers wrote racial, misogynist and sexual vulgarities all over his body as he lay passed out in the Chi Psi library.

On the morning of Sept. 17, when it became apparent that the 18-year-old was not breathing, someone tried to wipe off the slurs written on his face. The University of Colorado at Boulder freshman was soon pronounced dead, and at the coroner's office, more markings were found on his arms, legs and body."

...Call me a jerk, but my take on this is, we have one less beer-swilling, date-raping, daddy's-money-spending frat boy disturbing the peace. Has anybody considered that power drinking is just another form of Darwinism?

Good night, Frat Boy. Time to pledge that frat house in the sky.


Miss Cellania said...

Five minutes? That kinda negates the intrigue of your email address.

Attila The Mom said...

"a $65,000 toupee"

Bahahaha! Brilliant!

nongirlfriend said...

Ha, I love it. Expressing my sexuality.

It's much easier to digest that at a dinner party. "Yesterday, I went out to a bar, picked up some 23 year-old and EXPRESSED MY SEXUALITY."

So gonna use it. Thank you.

Violet said...

During summers, I manage an "aquatic center." Sometimes I think that lifeguarding also goes strictly against Darwin's theory of evolution. If people are stupid enough to get into deep water when they can't swim, shouldn't they face the consequences?

Edgy Mama said...

Do you ever stop writing? or thinking?

I'm just expressing my sexuality here.

Blogarita said...

My dad used to tell us Falling Rocks was a little Indian boy, and we should watch for him in case he decided to run out in the road.

He's still out there, but he's Native American now.

~The Goofy Ass Chick said...

An ex boyfriend of mine had the same theory about vehicles and the people who drove them. One day we were driving and he said that only average looking people drove run of the mill sedans.

When I purchased my new Escape I secretly kept that theory in the back of my head. I wanted a "hot person" vehicle.

Now I wonder if I've kept the theory alive or if I kicked it in the ass.

Fathairybastard said...

I dunno, every once and a while I look at who's driving one of those big 4x4 trucks and it's a hard lookin chick with a mullet.

Yet another brilliant exposition my man. Worth the wait.

Now, you'll excuse me while I go "express myself" in the shower.

Raggedy said...

hahahaha at five minutes and turn your head...tee hee
Your throw aways are awesome!
I left a wish for you at my place.
Have a wonderful day!
(=':'=) hugs
(")_ (")Š from da Raggedy one

jules said...

"Have you noticed those trucks don't have a “keep a safe distance” bumper sticker like other trucks?"--maybe they need a pictograph of the car smashing through your windshield?

Peter said...

Glad you didn't just throw 'em away Buggs.

Becky said...

You're writing a book, too cool! Is it gonna be one of those "thoughts with Jack Handy" kind of books?! I could see that.

NWJR said...

"Call me a jerk, but my take on this is, we have one less beer-swilling, date-raping, daddy's-money-spending frat boy disturbing the peace."

Not to mention one less future President.

tornwordo said...

I liked the testing the limits one. I think I've tested every one you mentioned. 'Cept, I've never really needed a lapdance.

Blonde Vigilante said...

I'm going to express my sexuality with an oreo in my mouth. "Look mom, no hands."

nice ass picture said...

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Dave Morris said...

You said "7 eleven restaurant." Although I've never called them restaurants, I have had my share of 7 eleven microwave burritos with free ketchup on them. Nothing makes your day like a 59 cent meal... and a bad case of the shits.

Webmiztris said...

I've wondered about the Watch For Falling Rock signs too. I mean, maybe it's just me, but I like to keep my eyes on the ROAD - not on the mountain beside me to see if any boulders happen to be hurdling towards me. Because honestly? If it's going to happen? I don't WANT to see it coming!

jali said...

Love this whole post! Your throwaway stuff is better than most blog regular contents on one of their good days.

I'm reading your stuff out loud to visitors here.

kari said...

I couldn't agree more on the calorie/Oreo issue. Who the hell eats 4 Oreos?

Junebugg said...

Can I have your autograph and say "I knew him when...."?

Miss-Informed said...

My, my aren't you the popular one. I enjoyed your thoughts on the stationary workout machines. Precore is my weapon of choice. It is literally a pain in the ass!

Janet said...

I'll never forget the time I went mini golfing and the sign said "Please watch your step around the simulated rocks".

Who knew simulated game play actually spilled over to the real world?

Thanks for the compliment on the blog title by the way. It's not just a phrase, it's my personal mantra:)

Amandarama said...

Power drinking is just another form of Darwinism and it's best left to those of us highly evolved enough to do it properly.

shpprgrl said...

I always laugh at the signs that say....Slow children at play. Should I go slow or are there slow children playing?

I pray each night that I will never have to drive an El Camino with fake wood paneling on the side. I don't like what that would say about me! ;)

Scottsdale Girl said...

Ok I managed to read commments first and Amandarama said one thing I was gunna say...*Raises fist in air with Amandarama*

Also, ok the elk/moose/deer signs..you know the ones I mean...sooooo I am supposed to "watch"for them...again similar to falling rocks, those fuckers appear outta nowhere and all I can hope for is that I don't have to pull out a gun and put that wildlife out of misery on my way to partay in the woods and shit.

ahhh...also when I see one of those signs I always put my hands up in the same fashion as their front hooves/paws and make a face...this only amused my mother god rest her soul. :)

Riss said...

I actually do test the limits all the time. The shower one. How many clothes can I pack into this washing machine. How many dishes can fit in the sink and still have room to wash. How many diced raw onions can I pile on top of the chili cheese fry mountain.

blogtimizer said...

i like that article about drivers ;)

Heart Of Darkness said...

Hey, where's the "boobs-n-cooter woman cake recipe" you promised me?

Rachel Heather said...

I love it!

Even though I think there are MANY differences between the sexes, I have to agree with the limits thing as well.

Like how long can I go without cleaning my hair out of the shower before my girlfriends gets pissed.

Or hpw many times can I fart before setting the room on fire


Crashdummie said...

All I wanna say can be summarized in a Nelson "Ha-ha"...

mcBlogger said...

I can't believe those are your throw aways, they're great! Some optimism for you and your oreo habit. You may have to run 20 minutes on the treadmill to burn off the 4 cookies you shovelled inot you for breakfast, but your metabolism will continue burning calories for up to an hour AFTER you get off the treadmill, so the disheartening LCD display telling you, you only burned 220 calories is lying to you. Give it the finger, and enjoy a few more cookies, you deserve it.

As always... Rachael said...

You spend quite a bit of time in your car, don't you? LOL - these were great!

Beth said...

I also enjoyed the $65,000 toupee. I'm also guilty of stereotyping vehicles! I mean, you've got to be an idiot if you can't distinguish between who's behind the wheel of honda civic and a jag. These are all great.

Also, I think I'm just going to park in front of the next falling rock sign. It'll be goodtimes.

Stacy The Peanut Queen said...

I do that whole work-out estimate ALL the time...isn't it discouraging???

If I want to eat half a box of raisinettes, I have to walk on the treadmill for three and a half hours...how damn depressing is THAT?

NeverEnough said...

I agree with you about the signs. But that poor, frat boy... That's just sad.

Greta said...

ok so I drive a honda civic hybrid...what does that say about me?


Carrie said...

Such a riot. Have you ever seen the pictograph watch for falling cows signs? Hillarious... I'm sensing a joke about fast food with that sign, but I'm not funny like you. :)

Dorothy said...

Loved these posts. Needed them today. It made me smile. Off I go to express my culin....screw it. I have to cook dinner for the hoarde tonight.

Heidi the Hick said...

question about the car-driver judging thing:

I'm barely 5'1, I look like I'm 19 years old, I have dark hair bleached yellow at the front, and I like to wear pink T shirts with pictures of tractors on them.

I drive a 1989 GMC sierra, full size, extended cab, 8' box, jacked up to heck in the back, with a rodeo sticker and a John Deere sticker on the tailgate.

Bug's butt, what do you make of this?????

Memphis Steve said...

I think one day I may try this, just dumping everything in my Draft folder out in one gigantic post. It would sure clean things up. And I'd feel a lot better.

Lightning Bug's Butt said...

Tractor tee shirts indicate homicidal lunacy. It's in all the psychology papers.

Spinning Girl said...

The correct term for what you call a "row" of oreos is a 'sleeve". I once ripped through a whole sleeve of Fig Newtons and a skid of mini-juice boxes, in about 4 minutes. But the FN's were whole wheat, so it's OK.

Heidi the Hick said...

Lunacy, okay.

Homicidal...only in my dreams. Don't push me!!!!!!!!!

poopie said...

*sigh* Why can't we all just have multiple O's and get along. Peace, dude.

Leesa said...

I like this idea. I love how your mind works.

Frap Gurl said...

bob your head and yawn.. NICE!

As for frat boy.. I completely agree!

Mel.. and Passion of the Christ.. Would love to be a fly on the wall when he is discussing muslims! What a dumb ass!

Jamie Dawn said...

Comic excellence!!
Your throw away leftovers far exceed most people's feeble attempts at humor.
Congrats on your new book!!
No Oreos for me!! I have to avoid them or I'll be having to shop for big girl clothes, and we can't have THAT!!!!

Have a nice weekend.

Toni said...

I dunno- I think SUVs have replaced the soccer mom's transportation of choice. After all, she needs something the size of a tank to haul all those groceries.