The One-Punch Rule Is Pretty Much On Its Way To Becoming A Reality.

Wow. Let's just pretend that the last two days didn't happen, shall we?

Suffice to say that the majority of customer's at Beano really need to be threatened with a hammer, if not at least slightly tapped on the forehead just to show that we mean business. Also: not to nag on old people, because I know a lot of old people who rock (I myself happen to be getting 'old', like it's something that you order online and wait for by the mailbox expectantly, and then one day it arrives with your Doctor Who DVD sets, a couple of books concerning letting your kids eat dirt and a t-shirt that you're pretty sure you DIDN'T order, because it's got David Hasselhoff's face on a unicorn's body and it's an ungodly shade of yellow and everything about it makes you want to throttle someone in American Apparel skinny jeans and then you realize, hey, wait, I'm acting like a grumpy old man again, but you're kinda okay with it...), but, damn: I have encountered so many seniors who seem to prefer living their lives stuck in Asshole mode, either demanding tomato soup and throwing a tantrum when I tell them I have none to give them, or pointing out that the tax centre across the street won't pay for their parking and expecting me to do something about it, or calling me names when I won't laugh uproariously at their racist joke concerning Arabs, or just generally being as obstinate and as difficult as possible.

I need to get out of customer service, I think.

Also: the Mount Royal Trophy Wives Club really needs to be destroyed. It's high time I did something on that front, whether it be making their half-caf drinks fully caffienated or switching their skim milk for whole milk or maybe just firebombing Lululemon. Who knows. A plan is formulating. Then, when we're finished with them, we can start on the Self-Made Millionaires Club, the guys who hang out for three or four hours every day, shrieking like three-year-olds on meth and leaving a mess that rivals Richard Dreyfuss' garbage mountain in Close Encounters.

Man, people just suck, don't they? It's a good thing there's a new Cloud Cult album out.

Anyway; forgettable things on the internet that make me smile:

1. I posted this a week ago, but it warrants repeated views; the only problem is that someone on Youtube's flagged it, most likely because of the GIANT PENIS that flashes on the screen for a millisecond towards the end, so now you have to sign in to see it, which is kinda sucky, but there ya go: Ferris Club, featuring our hero Cameron Frye and Ferris Bueller as his very own Tyler Durden.

2. I know they call it The Scariest Ads Ever Made, but really, it's only until they put another batch together next year, because you just know that next year or the year after will feature some pro-life bullshit featuring chopped up babies asking you not to murder them OH WAIT NO THAT'S ON A TRUCK THAT'S BEING DRIVEN UP AND DOWN 17TH AVENUE AS WE SPEAK. Because frightening and alienating people is the surest way to get your point across - oh but wait, you have to have a valid point to begin with, right? Right. Jerks.

3. Mumbai to place pyramids at accident-prone locations to help cut down on accidents by using positive energy. Okay, as silly as this sounds, wouldn't it be kind of awesome if this actually worked?

4. I am going to order this as a huge poster and put it up on my daughter's wall.

5. 12-year-old girl stands up to police: "If you take my computer again, I can't do my homework." Should I be worried about that batch of kombucha that's still in my fridge?

That's all for now. I have floors to clean and closets to organize and a garden to just look and sigh sadly at. Then it's time for work, wherein I'm sure someone will need to be yelled at.

Oh, Hot Snakes, why don't you love me any more?

More Compelling Than A Sack Of Hammers

Things we needed to get in order to make muffins:
- flour
- baking powder
- eggs
- milk
- butter
- salt
- brown sugar
- blueberries

Things we DIDN'T need in order to make muffins, but we couldn't help but pick up anyway:
- Jack Daniels
- 'The Kraken' Black Spiced Rum (dude this bottle looks AWESOME.)
- Astro Boy: The Complete Series, which, according to Entertainment Weekly, is "more compelling than Pokemon!"

I think I would like that phrase to be my epitaph.

Time to bake. Wish us luck.

To Keep Their Little Heads From Falling In The Snow

The proper way to greet this day.

I NEVER MAKE SPELLING MISTAKES IN THESE THINGS

So, apparently my ranting worked. My esteemed colleagues over at Straw HQ claim to have been besieged by submissions for our upcoming zine/project, so all I gotta say is: well, it's about goddamned time.

So, um, thanks. We'll work through this stuff, and by 'we' I mean 'probably Josh because he's good at it and the rest of us are lazy jerks', but, whatever works, right?

Now I gotta go pour alcohol into small glasses and glare out the window like the Grumpy Old Coot I happen to be. Don't let me catch you on my lawn, 'cuz I got a bat in my hands and an itch to use it, young fella.

Oh, and this is why Mike Patton makes me all tingly inside: Mondo friggin' Cane.

Walking With Hazel: Yogurt All Day Long

Today started out early, with Hazel actually dragging Dad out of bed by the arm so that he could make yogurt with oatmeal for breakfast. Then we argued over who would take the recycling out to the alley, and ended up doing it together, with Hazel carrying a lot of the smaller pieces of cardboard by herself. Then we discovered that "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" is the new way of saying "More yogurt, please!".

Then we explained to Hazel that if she wanted to sit on the top of the couch and watch everything outside through the living room window, she had to put some clothes on.

Of course, that was followed by a fight over whether or not the stroller should go on the couch, which wasn't so much about the stroller and more about Hazel's insistence that she could stand on the stroller while it was on top of the cushions. Then we discovered that "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" was also the new way of saying, "Daddy, pick me up!"

Then we went outside and did rubbings of tree bark with chalk and crayons, and then we drew animals on them and then put them up in Hazel's room. They didn't look anything like tree bark when we were done, but we still liked them, so shut it.

Then we watched all the parts of Spider-Man where he's swinging through the city, but skipped all the scary parts, which meant that we watched it for a bout five minutes.

Then our friend Sherri came over to visit, who used to work with Dad back when he would hit things with U-locks downtown, and we had a very nice visit wherein Hazel did nothing but tie Sherri's hair up in knots and eat Sherri's Timbits, and then Haze fell asleep while tying up Sherri's hair so now it's naptime which means that Dad has to figure out something for dinner that isn't chicken noodle soup or yogurt, so here's the song of the day.

Walking With Hazel: The Dummies Might Be Right.

Today's edition of Walking With Hazel has been canceled due to stoopid rain, crappy public transportation and Dad being somewhat of a doofus. Special thanks to Christina (aka The Angry Squirrel) for putting up with a sleep-deprived kid who wanted nothing more than to throw everything on the ground over and over and over again, because, well, y'know, DAD, sometimes kids need a nap.

In it's place we have one of those songs which sounds depressing when you read the lyrics, but is actually really, really awesome when you actually hear it.

Now I must go prepare vegetables. Be good, or you'll get no carrots, and then where'll you be, huh? HUH? That's what i thought.

And A Traffic Cop Let Some Strangers Get Away.

So, um, yeah. Shit. Has. Happened.

If you're a close friend and I've neglected to fill you in on the details, drop me a line and I'll give you the scoop. Otherwise, I'm gonna try and keep that shit outta here, because no one likes a whiner, especially on the internet, unless, of course, he's shoving a remote control up his ass, in which case, pass the popcorn, please.

Don't get me wrong: this is still gonna be a place of great bitterness and spite, but it'll be reserved for those things which truly deserve my bile, such as never-ending oil spills, the continued existence of Juggalos, and people who are just AGOG over double rainbows.

Also: you might have to put off with descriptions of the many awesome things my daughter is capable of, to which I say: SUCK IT. The HILJ is possibly the greatest force in the universe, and she's MINE, so I get to brag about her.

(Of course when I say 'MINE', I mean she also belongs to her mother, although I doubt her mother has any problem with me crowing about my daughter's fascination with licking her own reflection in the mirror, so there.)

So, yeah. There. A few things:

1. I've recently switched back from a Mac to a PC, and while normally the transfer wouldn't bother me that much, the PC in question is a wheezing piece of antique furniture that coughs up blood and lung tissue every time I use a search engine, so this Grumpy Old Man is in the market for a new Series Of Connected Tubes Provider; preferably cheap, but one that works, and yes, I finally get that Macs are better, as they tend not to use the energetic equivalent of a bender in Vegas simply to turn on, so, yes, I'm looking for a Mac.

So: a Mac that works, and is relatively cheap. If you were TRULY my minions, I wouldn't have to ask, but there ya go: you just can't find good help these days.

(Y'know what's awesome, though, Mac users? Right. Fucking. Click.)

2. My iTouch seems to have simply extinguished, as well. When I try and use it, it just whimpers and crawls into the damp space underneath my fridge. So, same as above: someone find me an iPod that can carry more than three songs on it without freezing, and I'll reward them with, well, something truly amazing. Like, yknow, gin.

3. Remember The Straw? Remember how we put a call out for submissions for our very first zine about a month ago? Remember how I said it could be anything you want, as long as it fit on a 8&1/2 x 11 page, so it's quite possibly the most relaxed set of publishing guidelines ever? Huh?
Deadline's coming up. July 15, 2010. C'mon, people; I know there are at least a few of you out there who can put a pen to paper without causing your brain to burst into tears, so let's get on it, 'kay? Thanks.

4. Lastly: if you see a cop today, give 'em a hug, and I mean that. Chances are, he or she's had a bad day.

That is all for now, except: this is the best song in the world right now, and if you disagree, I will kidnap your dog and eat it for dinner, and if you don't have a dog, I will do it to your child.