Archive for April, 2009

Wine Drunk 2: Electric Boogaloo

Posted: April 29, 2009 by kaostheory in Slice of Life

That’s right, ladies and gents. Since I am officially finished with college classes for the rest of my life (or until grad school looks tempting), I have decided to get nice and trashed tonight. And what better way to do that than with a bottle of wine? Yes, it’s time for another episode of me getting drunk and writing down what thoughts come to mind. You lucky bastards.

Okay, I’m still coherent. Clearly I have been failing in my task. Probably could still drive but it might get a little swervy at times.

Definitely more drunk. Rocking out is a good 15% more awesome than before.

Welp, my mental governor is gone. Neat.

I’m not sure I’d drive now. Well, I might but wouldn’t try to endanger anyone I gave a shit about though.

Yes! My voice is back to Queensryche levels. Badass.

Wow. Sorrowsong by Charon is such a pretty, heartbreaking song.

I can still understand what I’m doing. Clearly the second bottle needs to be introduced.

I’m migrating to Xbox. This is a good sign.

I fucking want salt.

Okay NOW I’m pretty drunk. It actually takes EFFORT to type on the keys.

It tastes like tires in my mouth.

The Internet provides the opportunity to never learn and grow. Yay.

Just read the most unsettling play ever. Wow. I want to do it so bad.

I cheat to win crossword puzzles. There, I said it.

Wow, my hands actually look like they’re typing of their own accord.

You demons have return-ed! Begone!

Tactics

Posted: April 23, 2009 by kaostheory in Informative
Tags: , , ,

Hello everyone. Sorry for not updating recently but those damn space mantises regrouped on Mars so I had to take a crack squadron of goons, completely with obligatory racial minority and female for sexual tension, to go kill those pinchy fuckers. Long story short: we got ’em, but some egg sacs got back to Earth and have taken over Uruguay. Those that have hatched have signed a treaty with us, under the condition they can have the country. We have decided it’s a small price to pay for peace.

Anyhow, as I was up in space shooting carapaces to bits, it occurred to me that there are an awful lot of tactics that guys and girls use to fuck with each other. Thus, I employed the services of a friend to be a sounding board for tactics and this is what we came up with. Enjoy.

Girl tactic: Get super “offended” by something a guy says, and use it as a means for being ‘not that into him’, thus an excuse to not have to speak to him again.
Guy tactic: Let it go. Show it didn’t hurt or mean a thing to you. It takes you girls off your guard like whoa.

Girl tactic: Saying ‘I have a lot of trust/guy issues’ is an easy repellant. It could either give you leverage to see how hard he’s willing to work (thus proving he’s a good guy), or get him to lay off. Quickly.
Guy tactic: Daddy issues aren’t necessarily a dealbreaker. Sometimes they can be fun.

Girl tactic: We screen our calls. Every single time. So the voicemail is key.
Guy tactic: We hate voicemails – they provide a paper/vocal trail of uncertainty – and will call dozens of times just to avoid having to leave one.
Girl tactic: Any guy that won’t man up enough to leave a voicemail loses ‘Potential Points’. No lie.

Guy tactic: We don’t understand your criteria. It’s like you have a syllabus detailing very explicitly your grading system and won’t hand it out in class.
Girl tactic: The girls worth anything are the ones without a syllabus. They are infinitely easier to recognize.
Guy tactic: Our radars are so effed by the chaff that is mixed signals by this point that we can’t tell the difference.

Girl tactic: We understand that you need ‘guy time’ just as much as we need ‘girl time’, but sometimes we just want all the attention. Every last drop of it.
Guy tactic: If you don’t want the guy doing guy time activities around you, let him have the guy time WITH the guys. Trust me, it’s easier that way.
Girl tactic: We think all you do during guy time is complain about how we don’t do mindblowing things in bed.
Guy tactic: All we do during guy time is get drunk and brag about the shit you WILL do

Girl tactic: We love it when you talk about baby names, or what you want the house to look like, or colors for the bridesmaids dresses. It doesn’t mean you need to turn into an effeminate guy — it’s the sexiest thing when you’re a just a guy that cares about the long term.
Guy tactic: The second a girl brings that shit up without warning, the friggin’ NORAD klaxon goes off in our head with a red light the brilliance of which is only matched by the SUN.

Girl tactic: “I was a fucking asshole to Dan. Seriously, like, I was an uncalled for jerk.”

Girl tactic: We think relationships should be exactly like the ending to a chick flick. (Note: This is totally unfair)
Guy tactic: We think relationships should be exactly like the beginning, middle and end of a porno (Note: Probably less fair)

Girl tactic: We like Momma’s boys. End of story.
Guy tactic: Fathers scare the HELL out of us. Because we know EXACTLY what is going through their heads. “Okay, you’re the little bastard who’s trying to take my little girl from me, huh? Let me tell you something. If you kiss her, I will kill you. If you have sex with her, I will kill your whole family. If you break her heart, I will kill everyone that has ever encountered you on the street. And I know you can hear this, AARON, so be warned.”

Girl tactic: Sometimes we say ‘nevermind’, just so people chase after us. (Note: This is so lame.)
Guy tactic: Some of us won’t bother chasing. Grow a set and talk things out like a grownup.

Girl tactic: We always want you to make the first move. Always.
Guy tactic: Some of us don’t have the stones for a first move and quite frankly consider it sexist to expect us to do so.

Girl tactic: We will basically orgasm upon first trace of chivalry.
Guy tactic: Fucking prove it.

Girl tactic: Girls that aren’t traditionally ‘girly’ have a tougher time of things. For instance, if you’re into baseball, you immediately become ‘one of the guys’.
Guy tactic: But even “guy” girls have tits and are therefore better.
Girl tactic: Yeah, but it’s harder to break out of the tomboy mold at that point.
Guy tactic: Doesn’t matter. Take your shirt off. Tomboy goes away.
Girl tactic: You can’t just be like, what is this, the bottom of the 8th? BAM, here are my boobs! It doesn’t work that way!
Guy tactic: Clearly you don’t understand men.
Girl tactic: I’m just saying, there’s no correct segway from RBI’s to fucking. The END.
Guy tactic: Yes there is. It’s called “Hey, this game’s great. Want to fuck?” It is THAT simple.

(Note: Conversation went off-track here but was too funny not to leave in)
NO WAY. That’s something out of a flipping porno skit, not real life.
Which is why it would WORK.
Well yeah, but then obviously, all regard for any decent, long-term relationship is OVER. You become fuckbuddies who come over to each other’s places for beer, wings, and sex, but that is IT. Which is fine, but like you said, a girl’s a girl no matter how tomboyish.
…beer, wings and sex is like a sports fan’s dream come true.
Totally, haha
Preferably at the same time
I mean, contrary to popular opinion, I think it’s do-able…haha.
If you do it doggie-style, you can use her back as a tray
AHAHAHA. YES, yes, you can.
Don’t know where the ranch could go that wouldn’t taint the flavor though
Just turn her over and drizzle it right on the boobs.
That sounds like it came straight out of a guy’s mouth. WOW.
You’re learning

Like I said, rape can be funny. End o’ story.
Exactly. Like if you raped a clown…or a six year old.
OMG, hahahaha.
Or the Burger King….or Mister Rogers…or Tony Danza.
It’s like a confusing, sexually charged orgy of creepy
Exactly, hahaha

(Note: Conversation resumed as normal here)

Girl tactic: When we see a girl with a guy we like, we ask ourselves ‘What did she do right to get HIM?’
Guy tactic: When we see a guy with the girl we like, we ask ourselves “How much is that asshole paying her?”

Girl tactic: Those nontypical girls hate that the guys get to be hams about their jokes. We know we’re supposed to be all ‘YOU are the only funny one around, mister!’, but serious props to the guy that laughs at the girl’s joke. Even if it sucks.
Guy tactic: Guys will laugh if a joke is funny, even from girls. Especially ones they want to sleep with.
Girl tactic: We have the same raging libido as guys, no matter how innocent. We just think we’ll be seen as nymphomaniacs for revealing it.
Guy tactic: Pretty sure you’d be seen as wicked cool if you did.
Girl tactic: Guaranteed, we’d look like a total slut if we did.
Guy tactic: Not if you didn’t bang every guy in sight.
Girl tactic: So just luring guys without screwing them is attractive? You’re still going to get a reputation from guys or girls either way.
Guy tactic: Big difference between luring and just flaunting a bit
Girl tactic: How do you define flaunting?
Guy tactic: I mean, just not be ashamed of being sexual like a majority of girls seem to be

Girl tactic: Just because we’re not chatty one day, doesn’t mean there’s something seriously wrong. Sometimes we just have quiet days.
Guy tactic: Well maybe you shouldn’t set the normal bar as being way chatty.
Girl tactic: Maybe you should jump in on being chatty, so we don’t feel like babbling weirdos. When you don’t say anything, we tend to get nervous and talk moremoremoremore, until we don’t know when to stop.
Guy tactic: Interrupting girls leads to future coitus interruptus. Fact.

Girl tactic: We’re split 50/50 on whether or not nervous, idle talk about ANYTHING is cute, or whether playing it smooth just works better.
Guy tactic: We’re probably just staring at your tits anyways

Girl tactic: Some girls’ boobs aren’t that big. They wholeheartedly believe in padded bras, so…don’t get disappointed when they’re half the size they appear in public.
Guy tactic: If you don’t want us to be disappointed, don’t make us believe in a lie. We don’t stuff our crotches. Some of us don’t need to.

Girl tactic: But you’re obsessed with stuff like the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. How are we supposed to live up to that!?
Guy tactic: Become Sports Illustrated swimsuit models
Girl tactic: The SI models are like blowup dolls. Nice to look at, but filled with silicone and zero thought processes.
Guy tactic: And preferably with our DICKS.

Girl tactic: When you don’t call us for a few days, we think the world is over.
Guy tactic: If we don’t call you, we’re probably just drunk.
Girl tactic: If you’re drunk, you should probably just come over and have your way with us.
Guy tactic: Like that ever fucking works.
Girl tactic: Depends when we’re ovulating.
Guy tactic: If you’re ovulating, we’re hightailing away from that den of trickery and fertility you call your vaginas.

Girl tactic: We like when you catch our drift. Like, we throw something out there, and you know what to do next without our direction.
Guy tactic: It’s just as easy to grab us by the hair and direct our face where you want it.
Girl tactic: But then we’re too “aggressive”.
Guy tactic: Says who?
Girl tactic: Unwritten law. What if you guys are like, WOAHTHERE, too fast. Of course we know what we want, but you can’t just force that stuff!
Guy tactic: I’ll give you a hint. We’d be perfectly fine with a blowjob instead of a hello. “Too fast” isn’t possible.

Girl tactic: You NEED to watch Sex & the City. The Samantha character is every guy’s dream woman, although she’s kind of a cougar.
Guy tactic: I’d rather drag my sack across broken glass.
Girl tactic: She’s still hot! And she wakes guys up with blowjobs. And gives blowjobs in public bathrooms. And has sex in the strangest positions. I’m pretty sure you could overlook the fact that she’s in her 40s. But maybe not.
Guy tactic: Eh, get a couple martinis in me and I’d give it a shot.

Girl tactic: Guys that cry every so often get extra credit.
Guy tactic: Perhaps but we lose man cred.
Girl tactic: Do you want to get screwed or not?
Guy tactic: Testes the size of baseballs should answer that for you.

Girl tactic: Like you get so nervous about The Dad, we get incredibly nervous to meet The Mom.
Guy tactic: As you should. Mothers are terrifying.
Girl tactic: Nah, we just want to impress with our domesticity.
Guy tactic: Pretty sure that doesn’t matter to the boyfriend.

Girl tactic: We’re always trying to be thinner for you guys.
Guy tactic: Don’t lose all of it. No guy wants to fuck a girl who feels like a pile of firewood.
Girl tactic: We love a guy who knows how to dress himself. Glasses are a plus. End of story.
Guy tactic: But glasses get in the way. Contacts are more comfortable.
Girl tactic: Contacts most of the time, but glasses are cute every so often. Just sayin’.
Guy tactic: I can buy that.

Girl tactic: You need to deal with our mood swings without getting irked. It’s just the way we operate, so the better you learn the ebb and flow, the easier things will be for you..
Guy tactic: We could deal with your mood swings if you didn’t turn into such raging cunts. Just because you’re cramped and leaking doesn’t give you the right to bite the heads off of guinea pigs or the emotional equivalent thereof.
Girl tactic: Oh come on! How would you feel being a beached whale for a week?! NOT FUN.
Guy tactic: Beached whales die. Why won’t you?

Girl tactic: Don’t live in the equivalent of a locker room. Learn how to clean….just a little. Nuff said.
Guy tactic: Why clean when you can do it for us?
Girl tactic: More clean, more sex.
Guy tactic: Our hands don’t try to bribe us.

Girl tactic: We will not, under any circumstances, go sans makeup for the first six months of our relationship with you. Literally, wake up earlier so we look presentable. (Note: This is also lame.)
Guy tactic: Fine, more sleep for us.

Girl tactic: Why do you guys feel the need to be macho all the time?
Guy tactic: Because we’re awesome, that’s why.

Girl tactic: Our favorite role to play is the sexy secretary. All the time, every time.
Guy tactic: We can dig that. We’re also fond of schoolgirl. And no, there is no way to explain it that doesn’t make us creepy-sounding.
Girl tactic: Start talkin’.
Guy tactic: Standard boilerplate is that it reminds us of a time when we were first noticing females in a sexual light.
Girl tactic: How Freudian of you…
Guy tactic: It’s better than the other option.
Girl tactic: Which is….?
Guy tactic: We just really really want to destroy innocence. With our manjunk.

Girl tactic: Similarly, we enjoy cursing. However, few are likely to curse so freely among the male species for fear of being thought of like a truck driver.
Guy tactic: That’s probably for the best. That extra leg on your Y-chromosome kills the fluid cursing ability in most cases.

Girl tactic: I think I’m running out of tactics…
Guy tactic: It’s cool. I think I blew my load already. And that’s too blatant to even “That’s what she said” it.
Girl tactic: Blew your load on what?!
Guy tactic: Well it certainly wasn’t the face of an Asian hooker I picked up near a Chinese restaurant around 7:30 tonight and am paying to act as a human footstool…
Girl tactic: That. is. the. most. bizarre. sentence. you. have. ever. uttered. EVER.

We certainly hope this was informative. It was…something to behold, alright. I feel like I need to go pray now.

The stuff I learned watching Guy Ritchie movies

Posted: April 16, 2009 by pred3000 in Uncategorized

I watched  RockNRolla last night and felt that the movie was perfectly illustrating the way to live the good life.  In fact, all of the Guy Ritchie output holds some very profound life lessons.  I would make this longer, but you see, Guy Ritchie does not wish for this to happen

Introductions should be as short as humanly possible
As seen in: Snatch.

Seriously, introductions can be little more than flashing your name up.  Make a name tag and consider yourself properly introduced to the world. If anyone protests, shoot their ass.  This is the world according to Guy Ritchie, after all.

Satisfying  sex takes approximately 7 seconds, including foreplay and the cigarette afterwards
As seen in: RockNRolla

This was the shortest sex scene in history.  But you know what?  Thandie Newton looked perfectly satisfied after the fact.  And if she can get off in seven seconds, than the average woman must get off in three seconds.  Don’t waste too much time guys.  You must pace yourself to hit the magical seven.  I know many who can go as long as nine seconds.  Remember; practice makes perfect.
It is absolutely impossible to kill Russians

As seen in: Snatch, RockNRolla

Don’t even bother trying.  They can be stabbed, shot, and I am sure other things, but they will get right back up.  Best thing to do is just try to make friends with them.  If you absolutely must kill them, wait until they attempt to sodomize you.  That seems to lower their strength.  And then, just one bullet.  If that doesn’t work, have a desert eagle handy.

The black gangsta motif is just as alive across the pond

As seen in: Snatch, RockNRolla

Yes, there are black people in Great Britain.  What, you were surprised?  Racist. What is more shocking is that the gangsta motif is just as alive there as it is here.  Apparently, Britain’s smuggling operations are entirely run by black people.  As are pawn shops.  And once in a while, music producers.  Britain is a great supporter of diversity.

Madonna songs are very good songs to play during torture

As seen in: Snatch (or possibly having Madonna herself show up in Swept Away)

If the Juggernaut uses it, well then, it must work.  Just crank up the Madonna and start the mayhem.  Car radios seem to be the most effective.  Just crank the volume and drive at fifty miles an hour.  Nothing makes you want to kill more than Madonna saying the word “bourgeoisie.”   By the time you are done, your foe will be reduced to nothing more than a few pieces of humiliated flesh, ashamed of the fact they had to die listening to Madonna.

Junkies and hitmen are actually among the most insightful people you will ever encounter

As seen in: RockNRolla, Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels

Yes, they are all insightful, they all have valuable life lessons, and they all listen to The Clash.  Also, they all can give sound financial advice.  Seriously, why deal with investment bankers?  Just find the nearest homeless man and watch the money roll in! Also, if you need to fake your death, junkies may have a piece of advice to help you out.  Junkies are seriously the Buddhas of today’s society.

If all else fails, then just let the problem solve itself
As seen in: Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels, Snatch

Ever had to do something that seemed to hard?  Well, next time, just ignore it.  Eventually, competing parties will wipe each other out.  In debt to the mob?  Wait for someone to kill him.  Boss not promoting you?  Wait for someone to feed him to farm animals.  The waiting game is the best advice for anyone who is dealing with a crisis.

Rupert the Drunk Listens to Bat Out of Hell

Posted: April 10, 2009 by pred3000 in Uncategorized

From the depths of the bottle came one man inspired to do the most random things while slowly becoming smashed. To add insult to injury, he decided to track his progress. This man is named Rupert. These are his adventures:

Rupert the Drunk listens to Bat Out of Hell
Alright everyone.  I downloaded a new album on The Pirate Bay.  It’s that old Meat Loaf album.  My friend William likes it, or at least I think he does.  Well, at the very least, I will give it a shot.  It can’t be any worse than In A Gadda De Vida, or however you spell that.  Well, I also managed to get to the package store.  And it’s a Friday night.  What could be better?

8 seconds-Wow, didn’t really take him that long to stick a keyboard in there, huh?  Ah well, it’s…yea.  It’s good.  So far.

55 seconds-So far, I have no idea how to make this a drinking game.  Everytime I think I hear, what’s his name, Todd Rundgren?

1 min 48 seconds-you know, vocals never hurt anyone.  On a side note, this is perhaps the quickest I have ever drank an entire bottle of Strong.

1 min 55 seconds-Ah, here we.  Vocals.  But did he say?  Gum in his eye?  That would kind of suck.

2 min 58 seconds-Whoo, he said it.  Bat Out of Hell!  Why is that so exciting?  I don’t know, but right now I feel like going out and beating a puppy.

3 minutes 36-Man, he must have the most badass motorcycle in history.

5 minutes 12 seconds-Another Strong Bow gone.  Meat Loaf really does drive me to the drink.

5 minutes 48 seconds-Why the hell did he slow down?  No, speed up.  That was cool.  Come on man.  Speed up the tempo again.

6 minutes 16-Is this song ending anytime soon?  What…another….another three minutes?  Dammit Meat Loaf.

6 minutes 42 seconds-This could be that guitar guy. Better take…drink…just to be sure.

8 minutes 4 seconds-Did he just say he wants to rip out his own heart?  That’s kind of awesome, I guess, but Meat Loaf seems like a guy who would really have to dig to find it.

9 minutes 16 seconds-This man really likes to say the word hell.

9 minutes 31 seconds-OK, first song done.  That was kind of cool.  Now the second one.

9 minutes 56 seconds-OK, what the hell is this?  Something about a wolf with roses and a woman who wants to have sex with it?  What happened to the music?!

10 min-It’s creepy when that one guy says “yes.”  I think I will be sleeping with the lights on tonight

10 min 13 seconds-You just asked that question, woman!  Dammit, I am drinking more.  Where’s my tequila?

10 minutes 45 seconds-Finally, actual music again!  Whoo.  Tequila leads to good things happening.

10 minutes 55 seconds-Wiki jumping is fun during…listenig…to music…stuff.
Editors note: At this point, Rupert logged onto wikipedia, attempting to find out the definition of his own name.

12 minutes 1 sec-There’s a Teddy bear named after me!!!

13 minutes 13 seconds-I can’t even really understand what the man is saying.  Something about words right out of his mouth.  I can understand you.  Turn the guitar down!

13 minutes 45 seconds-I bet that pussy Jimmy Page is playing guitar on this.  That fucking pussy.  No one likes you, dude!

14 min 20 seconds-Why are the Spice Girls on back up vocals?  Does this mean I should drink more?  Probably.

14 minutes 56 seconds-Another song done.  This one incomprehensible.  What is that wolf?  I’m scared.  I need my nite light.  I miss my nite light.

Editor’s Note: At this point, Rupert paused the album and went to his closet in a frantic search to find a nite light.

14 minutes 57 seconds-Slow piano.  Scratch the nite light.  Who needs a nite light?  Not me!

Editor’s Note: At this point, captured by the song, Rupert took out a cigarette lighter and began to swing it back and force.

15 minutes 8 seconds- (singing) Heah-ven Can WAIIIT!

16 minutes 15 seconds-Need another drink

17 minutes 45 seconds-(uncontrollable sobbing)

17 minutes 48 seconds-Why was I born a man?

18 minutes 10 seconds-Second tequila.  Wooo!

18 minutes 23 seconds-Really high note there?  Was Meat…a…what is…Castrati?  I’m going with Castrati.

19 minutes 10 seconds-OK, fourth song.  Hopefully more fun is to be had. Still, that wolf crap…..

19 minutes 20 seconds- A sax.  Really.  On an epic rock album.  For shame!

19 minutes 54 minutes-An awesome booty tackle?  You know, maybe I should check the linear notes.

20 minutes 35 seconds-His name is Robert Paulson.  His name is Robert Paulson…
Editors note: This statement continued ad nausem.  Only the first two examples have been preserved

22 minutes 40 seconds-Meat Loaf, don’t even try to pass yourself off as a sex symbol.  You are about as sexy as the baked chicken I had for dinner.  Oh yea.  Hot.

23 minutes 10 seconds-Are we close to that dashboard song?  Are we?  I am looking forward to that.  I think I’ve heard that before.  On a phone commercial.

24 minutes-there is no shame in actually ending a song.  You know that right?  Songs do end sometimes.  It’s something you should look into.

24 minutes 30 seconds-Like there, for example.  A song ending.

24 minutes 35 seconds-There, another piano ballad.  And Meat Loaf sounds weird.

25 minutes 10 seconds-Nothing inside of you?  I thought Meat Loaf at least had a cream filling or something.

25 minutes 40 seconds-I can’t…get No.ohoho-Sa-tis-fact-shun.
Editor’s Note: At this point, Rupert attempted to go get his guitar.  It had to be taken away from him, as it has been ruled that his touching of a guitar constitutes a felony.

27 minutes-pretty sure I heard something about oil.  Can’t be sure.

30 minutes-Para-dise! On the Dashboard Light!  Is it up yet?  No?  Crap.  Para-dise! on the Dashboard Light!

33 minutes-Ok, the last song was torture.  But we have Dashboards now.

33 minutes, 10 seconds-OK, this isn’t really that much better.

33 minutes 40 seconds-Is Meat Loaf a Jedi?  It would explain a lot.

35 minutes-I am the Vader to Meat Loaf’s Luke!!

Editor’s Note: at this point, Rupert went searching for Meat Loaf with a plank of wood in hand he referred to as his “light saber.” Attempts to coax him to bed were unsuccessful.

Fear and Loathing Somewhere Near Greek Row

Posted: April 7, 2009 by pred3000 in Slice of Life

We were somewhere near the soccer field, on the edge of the grass, when the booze began to take hold.

I remember saying something like, “Whoa, I feel a little whoozy. Maybe we we should slow down.

Suddenly, I saw this giant animal on the field with a red colored ball. It found me and began to charge. I though, “Jesus, what is that damn animal after me?”

It was true. On the soccer field was the single largest seal I had ever met. In between its balancing act, it would come after me, jumping and barking with a devilish gleam in its eyes?

“What are you screaming about?” my roommate asked.

“Never you mind. Let’s just keep walking.” No sense in telling him about the seal yet. The poor bastard would see it soon enough.

The party was BYOB. We had two bottles of SKYY, half a bottle of Seagrams, two six packs left of Strongbow, two handles of Captain Morgan, a handle of Cruzan’s pineapple rum a small bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade, a jar of corn whiskey, a cranberry juice bottle filled with half cranberry juice, half vodka, three bottles of kosher wine. Also a quart of tequila, a 24 pack of Natural Light, and a pint of our own distilled brand of filtered liquor. Not that we needed all that for the party. But once you get locked into a serious alcohol collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.

The one thing I was worried about was our brand. It had never been tested on humans before. The rats we had given the stuff to had all collapsed and died of what we later determined to be heart failure. I knew we would be getting into that vile stuff soon ourselves.

Headquarters had sent us to cover some big fundraiser at the Chi Phi fraternity house. I was not quite sure what the theme would be. Everyone there was wearing these bizarre masks. In the right light, the people took on the appearance of lizards. This was all part of some sort of huge celebration going on. I can never be sure what exactly there is to celebrate in this foul year of our Lord, two thousand and nine.

Despite this, the atmosphere was jovial. They had forgotten the foul stench of the world around them. They had drinks flowing and who knows what else being passed around like candy. I didn’t bother asking what sort of chemical that was. No sense in ruining the scene. Such an action is among the most likely ways to get a man kicked out.

Not that I had noticed much about the atmosphere until after a long, intensive reflection. At the time, I was mostly concerned with not being ejected from the locale. I had slowly become a man over the years become an expert at being ejected from places. I slowly approached the door, trying to fight the jelly that had become my legs.

“Good evening! My name is, uh, Russ! I am on the list to interview some members of this fine fraternity. This is my roommate, and he must be allowed in!”

There was no debate about it what so ever. They let us both in, with no provisions on smoking and drinking.

It wasn’t long before my roommate cornered me about that incident. At first he was babbling in some incoherent language. I couldn’t figure it out. Slowly, it all became more clear. “You’re lucky we managed to get into this place at all. You scared the shit out of them!”

“That’s the problem with you man! Here we are, and you just keep complaining!”

“What does that mean?”

I had no idea how to continue this discourse.
I went around the place, trying to find what had been ultimately been my goal. At least, I think it was my goal. My mind had become so overloaded with goals that it was simply impossible to focus on only one. I instead went to the nearest person I could find, a leggy woman who people were constantly flocking, presumably to seek her wisdom.

“Excuse me” I asked “What is the collegiate dream?”

She gave me a blank look. The blankest I had ever seen a human being give.

“What?”

“The collegiate dream?”

She gave a hearty laugh and opened her shirt.

“Here it is!”

I had to reflect on how simple some of the great mysteries of life truly are. I had expected the search for the collegiate dream to take me a long while that would lead me on a great odyssey that would eventually get me thrown out of a diner somewhere upstate. But no, it was always right in front of me. Sometimes, the best things are the things you do not have to search for.

The Doctor Is In #1

Posted: April 4, 2009 by kaostheory in Mailbag
Tags:

He kicks your problems' asses! With advice!

He kicks your problems' asses! With advice!

I’m Doctor Awesome McKickass and I’m welcoming you to Dan Eats Cat Food. Being the epitome of awesome I am, plus a doctor, I feel that it is part of my duty here to keep an open rapport with the fans. So, every Friday I will be offering up a live chat transcript with the populace. Please enjoy. The doctor is now in.

Are you really a doctor?
Larry in Massachusetts

– Yes.

Really?
Jenna in DC

– Yes.

Where did you get your PHd? And when?
Pablo in New Mexico

– University of Maryland, class of nonayofuckinbiness.

What does it take to become a doctor in awesome?
Keith in St. Louis

– That’s a good question, Keith. It’s not nearly as easy as it may sound. It’s actually incredibly rigorous. You have to spend every waking minute making sure you adher to the three tenets of Awesome. It becomes a lifestyle, not just a program of study.

What are the three tenets of Awesome? I’ve never heard of them.
Alicia in New Orleans

– The three tenets are as follows: be awesome in sexual appearance and appetite, be awesome at sports and other non-sexual activities, and be awesome at drinking and carousing. There’s a faction in the program that is pushing for the addition of a fourth tenet, being awesome at giving back to the community, but strict conservatives vote it down every time. It’s the most contentious issue facing the program today.

Is there any real difference in how the tenets are covered?
Xavier in Montana

– Yes. While all three tenets must be adhered to, each student is allowed to choose an area in each of them to specialize in. For example, I personally specialized in foreign beer (with further emphasis on Belgians), American football (with an emphasis on examining the AFC) and marathon sex (doggie-style preferred). My personal best was twelve days without leaving my room, including for food and water. It was actually my thesis.

How long does it take to get a degree?
Felicia in Phoenix

– That depends on the student in question. If a student is dedicated to the goal, as I was, they can graduate in three years, give or take a few months. But if they spend their time dicking around with public service and monogamy, it can take up to six years. Some never graduate, being too lame to do so. It’s a shame but it happens.

What are awesome things?
Brendan in Washington

– I think that requires defining exactly what awesome is first.

What is awesome, then?
Trent in New Jersey

– There we go. Awesome is defined in the Bitchin’-cratic Oath (the oath all graduates sign upon leaving the program) as: “The mental and physical condition of being so totally fuckin’ rad that anyone who sees, hears, comes in contact with or even thinks of the object, person or animal in question feels his or her balls or tits grow a little bit”. This definition is very strictly enforced. Something cannot be “kinda” awesome. It is either awesome or it is not.

Okay, jackass. So what are awesome things?
Brendan in Washington

– I obviously can’t list all of them, since the status of awesome changes for things day-to-day, but I’ll list some that have become solid in that vein: fire, explosions, nuclear explosions, knives, swords, guns, big guns, blacksmiths, ninjas, pirates, robots, robot women, robot women with the possibility for sex, flexing biceps, sweet-ass air kicks, hot women, fairly hot women, women that aren’t that hot but are willing to do things that are illegal in Alabama, monkeys, squirrels, monkeys riding squirrels, Whiplash the Cowboy Monkey, bacon, bacon-wrapped bacon, turkey bacon with bacon bits, any movie by Stallone or Zack Snyder, Star Wars (the original three), Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs, cocaine, X, morphine, anything alcoholic, missionary sex, anal sex, and anal sex with Brendan’s mom. That’s right, Brendan. Your mom likes it rough.

Is it only men that can be awesome?
Bridget in Salem

– Of course not! Some of my most awesome colleagues are women. In fact, my college girlfriend Abigail is so awesome that she has actually caused male porn stars to ejaculate prematurely just by winking at them. God, I miss her. I should call her up and see how she’s doing…

So what do you use your degree for?
Grace in New Zealand

– Every student does different things with their degree. Personally, I’ve opened a clinic designed to aid those critically ill with not-awesome. I have seen some heartbreaking sights, I shit you not. A man that couldn’t drink alcohol because it made him gag. A woman who wouldn’t have sex with her boyfriend on moral grounds. And worst of all, a man who couldn’t flex his biceps.

That sounds horrible! How did you fix him?
Vickie in London

– I’ll be honest. It wasn’t easy. A strict treatment of weight-lifting, boozing, hooker-sexing, and Rambo-watching has helped a bit, but we won’t know the full results until the beginning of next month. It takes time to suss out why he’s such a pussy. Alright, last question everyone!

Is your name really Awesome McKickass?
Kellen in New York

– It is now.

Thanks for chatting, everyone. Until next time, stay awesome. And if you can’t, that’s why I’m here! Deuces!

Your Spring Break Just Doesn’t Measure Up

Posted: April 3, 2009 by kaostheory in Slice of Life
Tags: , ,

It's all real, people.

It's all real, people.

Note to readers: This article is a bit delayed due to it appearing in the current issue of my school newspaper. The actual paper comes out today so call this a sneak peek. Enjoy, bitches!

I certainly hope that everyone’s Spring Break was memorable. Yes, I know that some of you all had to stay on campus to do work or had sports games to perform at or, I don’t know, ballet recitals to watch and wish for death’s sweet embrace to take you away from the pink, glittery hell. But me? Well, mine had some…unintended events take place. What were they, you ask? I’m glad you asked! Let’s run down the list.

Became a matador and fought in Pamplona – This one was fun. I got really good at swirling that cape that they have to play with. I have to say though, getting gored is no bueno.

Went into space – It’s true. NASA sent me up into space to explore the vast outer reaches of the universe. It was pretty badass.

Fought giant space mantises on Venus after going into space – I’m not really allowed to talk about this one.

Discovered a hole in the space/time continuum – A side effect of the medication I had to go on after fighting back the villainous horde of mantises was that I actually was able to manipulate the fabric of the very universe. So I totally went back to shake my hand in 1987. Little baby me peed my Huggies.

Used the hole in space and time to punch Mussolini in the face so freakin’ hard – I mean really freakin’ hard, man.

Became metallic – This one was unsettling. I woke up on Thursday and for whatever reason, I was able to cover my body with a thin sheen of unbreakable metal, like Wolverine except all over or like Colossus if he hadn’t been such a bitch. True story though, metal doesn’t breathe well. And it chafes like nobody’s business. Avoid at all costs.

Became Metallica – Yes, I was successful in my efforts to transmute my consciousness into the bodies of all four members of Metallica. Gotta be honest here…it was a little disappointing. They play a lot of Jenga. A LOT of Jenga.

Became lead singer of Poison for a tour – I loved this one. Bret Michaels came up to me and was like “Bro, listen, I really need your help. I’m exhausted by being awesome and having all these women rub up against me and performing. Can I tag out for a week?” Yes, Bret. Yes, you could.

Got my own reality show – I was also able to parlay my brief musical career into a reality show. They called it “The Adventures of Doctor Awesome McKickass (all rights reserved)” and it revolved around me hooking up, drinking Cristal and getting grillz on mah teef. It lasted three weeks and will never reach syndication. It was too smart for those MTV jackasses.

Killed a bear with my bare hands while naked – Okay, okay, look, this one got way blown out of context. What happened was I was taking a mental cleansing day in a forest up in Minnesota and was letting the cool Midwest air suck the toxins from my body when I came across a mother bear and her two cubs. Thinking it would be funny, I grabbed one of the cubs and took off across the forest. She chased me, the intent to maul clear in her furious roars, and the only recourse I had was to jump on her back and put her in a headlock until she succumbed to my strength squeezing the life from her body. Then I tied the cubs to my car and let them ride on top as I drove back to Atlanta. They’re in a better place now. The Atlanta Zoo.

Merged minds with the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl – This one was actually running concurrently with the bear saga. During my vision quest, the god came to me and asked me to be his human vessel in his attempt to regain control of the soul of the planet. I agreed, but my reckless actions with the bear showed him that mankind was still too unstable to conquer and he ran like a winged snake god out of Hell away from me. Shame too. It was like having James Earl Jones in my head.

Impregnated four hundred women, including three former Disney stars – I can’t tell you which ones. Their lawyers have me strapped down tighter than they did. *rimshot*

Was elected President of Surinam – Even I don’t know how this one happened.

Was reborn as a Highlander – “There can be only one” is actually a fallacious statement. Instead, the Highlanders have an elite cadre of members that meet occasionally to discuss policies and play some poker which watching the game.

Tripped the light fantastic – I owned that freakin’ light. And no, I don’t know what this means.

Partied with T-Pain – I was on a boat, I was on a boat, everybody looked at me ‘cause I was sailing on a boat. I was on a boat, I was on a boat, took a good hard look at the m-f boat.

Was pursued through four states by federal agents after defiling an unidentified national treasure – I’ll give you a hint. It rhymes with “The Declaration of Independence”. Wait…

Walked the dinosaur – Boom boom acka lacka lacka boom. Boom boom acka lacka boom boom.

Got a wicked awesome tan – I’m talking bronzed, baby. Atlas-style.

Brewed my own liquor and consumed it in front of little children – Part gasoline, part fermented peaches, all awesome.

And finally, flexed my biceps so awesomely that Helen of Troy came back through time to personally thank me for rocking the shizzy – No foolin’. She actually said shizzy.

What a tiring break! But you know what? I wouldn’t trade any of these experiences for the world. Okay, maybe the whole federal charges thing, but in their defense, I WAS kind of a prick about it.