My new answeringmachine

"Hi, there. You have called my house and recieved the answeringmachine. Chances are, I am at home. I have not yet picked up the phone. That probably means that I am either doing something more important than picking up the phone or I have checked the caller-ID and found that I didn't want to speak to you. You can try to yell for a few minutes that I ought to pick up the phone, see what fat load of good that'll do you, but I will most likely stay here, right next to the phone, timing your call. The recordholder is still my mom, with 19 minutes and 26 seconds of yelling at me on the machine. Mr. Denby is currently last, with a single "Jerk" afterwhich he hung up. And Mark, it doesn't count as yelling at me to pick up if you are just reciting dirty limerics. Your call may be recorded for trainingpurposes. Now, how do I turn this thing off? Darn it. Julia, did you see the manual for the answeringmachine?" "Here you go." Thank you, but this is for the microwave." "Sorry. You got all this talk all over it. Are you going to rerecord it?" "That whole spell? Hecks no." "Here it is. It was still in the box". "Thank you, Jules. "Press the OK button when done". Well, ofcourse".

50 ways to get your but outta my sight!

So, Mark has got a new girlfriend, but he doesn't really want to. So, Mark needs to break up with her. Trouble is, neither of us has ever actually broken up with a girl. We are the ones being broken up with. So, we need some sort of tip. We tried listening to that Paul Simon song "50 ways to leave your lover", but none of those apply to us. Sure, there is Jack, Stan, Roy, Gus and Lee, but no "Tell her that you are a narc, Mark", "Be a little snark, Mark" or "Say she was a lark, Mark", and I can't even come up with a word that rhymes with my name. Well, there is a word in the obscure african language Abumgang, which means something like "A man who takes great pleasure in itching his left knee while humming to theme to his favorite TV-panelshow", but that is not really appropriate. Mark tried to be a huge jerk, to make her break up with him, but she didn't notice any difference. So, eventually, we wrote down a bunch of reasons for why we have been broken up with in the past. So, Mark called her up and called her a womanising jerk. As it turns out, he couldn't come up with any other reason for being dumped. When I get dumped, it is for specific actions, like spraying them with anti-bacteria spray or trying to remove a tattoo with rubbing alcohol. Or responding to hands being cupped over the eyes and "guess who" with "Judging by the roughness of the hands, I would guess uncle Paulie "Fat Pig" Salvatore".

Doing something positive with my day

I have been following Something Positive for a while now. And I have noticed a pattern. Even if a reasonable conversation is taking place, the final panel will always say something horrible.

Panel 1:
X: "So what about that new TV-show with Jay Mohr?"
Y: "I hate it".
Panel 2:
X: "Me too. The producers must think us idiots".
Y: "Yeah".
Panel 3:
X: "Oralsex from small babies".
Y: "Rape of elderly male cancerpatients with syphilis".

The whole strip is pretty much the story of lives going gradually worse. Like Johnny Cash's autobiography, just a long list of things that went wrong. "So, Davan was just a-sittin' there, when, suddenly, a freakstorm hit town and ruined everything that he held dear and then he fell into a pit of inconveniently placed acid and he got horribly scarred and then PeeJee drank some methanol and went blind and Aubrey developed a taste for butterskotch and killed a guy to get some candymoney and Jason knobbed a boysenberrybush and he got a divorce and then he was playing with a gun and accidentally shot up a mall and got charged with horseplay with homicidal intent and then that cat ran away and was run over by Davans car and everyone insulted each other". It is almost worthy of a countrysong.

Alright, I admit, most of this post was just a ploy to get to write that long list of things going bad. And while, I am here, say hello to the newest member of my family, Tom Servo, my new robotic vacuum cleaner. It is like the pet I never bothered to get.

The original american idol

Theodore Roosevelt was the manliest leader of state, ever. He, and I am not kidding here, got shot in the stomach, decided that he was not shot in the lungs, since he was not coughing, and he went up and did a 90 minute speak with blood seeping out of him. And was he not about to hold a speech, I bet that he would have shown Schrank what's for. Bully!

So, I have been alone for a week

And already I got an overwhelming desire to play Second Life. I say "Play", but it is really only a very advanced chatengine and, as such, insanely boring and filled with people that goes "Any hot woman who wants to send me emails with pictures of themselves in the nude" and "Any hot woman who wants to have sex". But there never is, you fools. If a woman is hot, she doesn't have to have sex with random men from chatrooms. She can get all the men that she damn well feels like just by sticking her head out of her apartmentwindow and say "Oy, you with the big willy and the great arse. Get the hell up here and satisfy my wildest urges". So why do they need you to offer yourself? Use your brain, you idiot.

I think that I lost my train of throught, there. So, I am getting bored. I spend yesterday singing introes from songs from myself, but I always knew what they were. The day before I played Minesweeper. My record for easy was 35 minutes. I am not very good at it.

So, you are leaving me behind, eh?

Everybody is. Mark is going to Chicago to watch an american football game, and is going to stay there for a while. Julia is going with her family to Cutesy Land, an amusementpart for Cutesy the Bear, you know, the one from TV. With the catchphrase "I vuw evewyone, and so should you". Dang bear. They have seasonpasses, so who knows when they want to go home. Ashley is going on an angermanegement course. Not courtordered, surprisingly. She beat up a platoon of sailors in a bar, last week, and, as it turned out, that one guy did really just say that she ought to put some of his PEAnuts in her mouth. It was a sexual innuendo gone horribly wrong. So, I am going to be alone for quite some time. I am not quite sure what to do. Perhaps just mope around the house for as long as they are gone. I could be alone for an entire month. Julia arranged for a grocery service to deliver to my house, so I am not gonna starve. I wish that the friend-audition had went well, so that I would have had some friends outside this circle. Hey, wait a second. Didn't I have more friends before I was locked up. I am pretty sure I did. My adressbook says I did. Aaron A. Aaronson to Zachary Z. Zeddemore to Frank Turnip. It is not alphabetical. Why haven't I talked to any of these people since I was arrested. I should try to call a few people. Later. Knightrider is on right now.

RIP Carlin

Rest in peace, George. Rest in peace. My desire, right now, is to yell out several of the dirty words, but that is not my style. And, I believe that the only way to honor him is to write something that will, hopefully, entertain you.

I haven't mentioned Denby in a while, have I? Well, a few weeks back, he decided that his new course of action was to smoke me out with monotomy. So, every day, from 2 to 5 PM, he has been playing the Tuba on my yard. In response, we have also chosen a new course of action: Ignoring him. So, we haven't even looked at him for weeks, much less thrown stuff at him. But, he is ignoring our ignoring him, so we are really getting nowhere. It is, pretty much a battle of wills, at this point. And, I am a master of ignoring. On IMDB, hundreds of people on my ignorelist. But, Denby is sort of like a really persistant troll. And, Oompah is sort of like the real-life version of trolling. They are just trying to make other people angry, for no real reason. You know why? Because they are jerks. Damn bavarians.

The band of neighbours, friends and hired geeks

Me, Ashley, Mark and Julia decided that we should start a band. Or, we were talking about what instruments we played and Julia insisted. And why not? We can't really go out on tour, but it might help distract me from boredom. I play the violin, Ashley plays the banjo, Mark plays the bongo and Julia, for reasons that I sensed that I probably would regret knowing, plays the jug. We started out with deciding on a name, which is, ofcourse, the most important part of any band. We each had our own idea of the ideal name, like "Ashley and the Ashbury Angels", "Mark the Days", "Julia and the Headliners", and so on. We finally settled on Adamant, but someone pointed out that that was the name of a great singer of the eighties, minus a space between the first and last name. So, we were back where we started. I wrote down a list of the names as we throught of them, and why they were not chosen.

Various Black Men - Non of us are black and only two are men, claims Ashley. Mark made suggestive remark, Ashley threatened that if he continued, the number of men would fall and the number of women rise by one each.
The Castro Collective - Apparently, Fidel Castro is not a well loved, jolly old man, which was certainly my understanding. Julia claims that it is someone referred to as the Santa Claus that brings presents at christmas. I am still reasonably certain that Fidel Castro was the one who brought presents in my home.
Nightshade - Sounds emo, ew.
Nightshave - Sounds infinently more cool. Ashleys calls it the stupideds name she has ever heard.
Intercourse - Mark found it funny. Ashley suggested the next name.
Mark is an Idiot - We all liked it, but Mark voted it down.
PoopDog - Mark suggested this one.
Booger - Ashleys suggestion. We think it might be sarcasm in response to Marks suggestions.
Kitty and the Cats - Sounds to cute.
Psychotic Mailmen out for Blood of Random Children- Not cute enough. Julia is scaring me.
Friends of Sweetums - Julia is feeling better, but this suggestion was voted down.
Hug-Patroll - Julia is on a roll.
JazzMan - No jazz. No suggestion of jazz in my house.

Eventually we settled on Wolfram. I think that it is some sort of chemical element. I saw it on TV once, and wrote it down, because it is a really cool name. So, we had to decide on a sound. I voted rock, Mark voted electro, Ashley voted metal and Julia voted bubblegum pop. Then we decided to just play and see what happened. As it turned out, our individual instruments sounds terrible when together. So, none of us are fans of our band, at the moment. But we are gonna give it a few more days. I mean, now we went through all the trouble of finding a name, so we might as well try to find a sound. Now, excuse me, but I need to get Julia away from my violin. Either that, or someone is torturing a dog in my livingroom. Either way, I will not have it!

9 out of ten doctors agree:

They all hate the tenth doctor. Who does that jerk think he is? I mean, do you like anything, or are you just being difficult? Grow up, you big baby.

My top ten things ever!

1: Hunky Dory. Besides being one of the worlds greatest albums, alongside a couple of other Bowie albums, it is a fine word. "Everything is hunky dory".
2: Soap. It keeps me clean. It kills germs.
3: The previous decade. It sucks while you are in it, but it always looks better in contrast to the current decade. For example, the nineties, brought a lot of sucky music, but right now it looks pretty good in comparison to the music we have now.
4: Black, grey, white and beige. Because all of my clothes are in those colours. Yes, sir, no pink shirts in my closet. And no poloshirts either. If I had had to wear a poloshirt as part of a schooluniform, someone would have been in for a surprise. Yeah, I would probably have gotten detention every day, from principal Mitler. I never liked that guy. Mitler was a jerk, always followed by that slimy guy, Wobbels. Math, with Mr. Van Trasigk, I hated. We used to call him Mr. Tragic. Even lunch sucked. Mr. Sacke was not the lunchlady that you would have hoped for. He always served gruel. I remember once that, for a joke, Barney went over to Sacke and said "Please sir, can I have some more". And we laughed, especially Mr. Sacke, but only afterwards, when he had thrown Barney in a sack and beaten him to within an inch of his life, afterwhich the rest of the staff would get a chance to smack the sack around. Mr. Mitler would refer to this practice as "Machen Spass". I know that I was going somewhere with this post, but I can't remember what. Probably, stay in school. Cut, print, publish!

Life in tapes

Hi, Julia here. The boss is busy watching TV. Its weird, but it is the show with that really old phonebooth, only, now the guy travelling in it is Moe, but I can't see Larry, Shemp or any of the Curlies anywhere. Instead there is this cute guy who is wearing a skirt, but the boss claims that he is "straight as an arrow", whatever that means. They are fighting, like, robotmen with handles on their head. Anyway, I reminded him that he should remember to update his blog, but he just threw me a tape that he had lying around and said "Transcribe this". So I did. I am writing my bosses name as "boss", since he doesn't really want me to tell you his real name. I dunno why. His real name is not Boss. That is a silly name. Anywho, as he always says:


Mark: Whatcha got there, dude?
Boss: Found me dictaphone. I'm just sitting here, playing with it.
Mark: I am so gonna steal that thing and edit the first sentence out.
Boss: Hehe.
Mark: How is this whole secretary thing working out for you.
Boss: Assistant, Mark. She is my assistant. And it is working out pretty good.
Mark: She seems a bit... vapid, doesn't she?
Boss: Yes, but I get the sneaking suspicion that a lot more is going on inside of that pretty head.
Mark: Yeah, the word "shiny" is chanted repeatedly.
Boss: No, no, I think that she might be smarter than we give her credit for.
Mark: Nah, probably just "shiny", and what about that hot little thing across the street, huh? Huh? You tappin' that? Huh? A bit of the old in'n'out? Huh? The Horisontal Hula? Huh? Putting the caddle out to graze? Huh? Playing The Yakkety Sax? Huh? Painting the garage? Huh? Surfing the Pacific? Nudging the Saynomore? Huh? Grabbing the bus to...
Ashley: Oi! I am right here.
Mark: Well, so you are.
Ashley: Yeah. I have been here for fifteen minutes.
Mark: Oh. So before I started euphemising.
Boss: She was sitting five feet away, you git!
Ashley: I gave you that Cornetto.
Mark: You did not. That redheaded one...
Boss: Julia.
Mark: Yeah, she gave it to me.
Boss: She's not here. She went to visit her parents, out in the country.
Mark: Since when?
Boss: Since yesterday.
Mark: But where did I get this Cornetto?
Ashley: Are you high?
Boss: Shiny.
Ashley: Hey, have you guys ever done drugs?
Boss: Why?
Ashley: Come on, I wanna know. I love gossip. I feed on gossip. I am woman, hear me digest on tabloids and juicy anecdotes. Come on, have you done drugs.
Mark: Define "drugs".
Ashley: You know, like, extacy.
Mark: I have given quite a lot of it.
Boss: I am more of a downer kind of guy.
Ashley: Really? You have done drugs?
Boss: No?
Ashley: Come one, tell me.
Boss: No, tell me about your drug use.
Ashley: Okay. Back when I was 16, I used to smoke pot with with my friend Kerri.
Mark: Dopefiend in the house.
Ashley: Come on, I want to know stuff about you. Mark shares everything about himself, wheter you want to or not, but you never talk about your past. Come on. Tell me something seedy and weird that you have done.
Boss: I have done nothing wrong. Ever.
Ashley: There has to be something unusual and dark in your past.
Boss: No. I'm normal. I'm human. A normal young human male.
Mark: He is right. Except for, like, one one-night stand, he has done nothing weird, ever.
Ashley: Oh, that creepy guys slutty girl?
Mark: That's the one.
Ashley: How did he ever get clean?
Mark: He filled a tub with rubbing alcohol and he burned his bedsheets.
Ashley: So you have done nothing wrong, ever? No juniors running around?
Boss: Nope.
Ashley: No addictions?
Boss: No. Well, I do love to watch the Smurfs, but I can quit anytime.
Ashley: No physical defects?
Boss: I can't grow a beard.
Ashley: No weird obsessions?
Boss: Oh, tons of those
Ashley: Oh, right. But, if you ran for leader of this country, what would they find.
Boss: Nothing. That is my ludicrous claim, and I stand by it.

Then the tape ran out. And my boss thinks that I am pretty and smart, so, all in all, this was a good day.

An apology for the delay in updates.

I was working on a really funny post, or so I throught. About the man who drives the icecreamtruck. But, when I had written about half a page, it turned out to be not as funny as previously anticipated. Well, it sucked, so I have to come up with a new idea. I know that it shouldn't be so hard to come up with ideas, but things have been quite slow recently.

But that is the nature of blogging, right? Sites have to go through more times of updatelessness than of updating. It am pretty sure that weeks of not updating blogs are part of the rules of owning one. In fact, I think that it is one of the first rules of nettiquette. So, eh, no update untill I come up with a better idea.

It is like Grandpa Windsong says, "Things take the time they take, and you need to wait for them to take their time". Ofcourse, Sergeant Grandpa always says "What is your major malfunction?!? Get of your lazy butt and do some damn work, you maggot! Now, gimme ten jokes and a visual gag!". Well, that's granddads for you.

Ofcourse, there is Grandma Felicitys boyfriend Bubba, who has begun insisting that I refer to him as Grandpa Paris, whose advice is for me to get laid. I have tried to explain to him that my choices are my neighbour, whose special talent for violence combined with her femine touch are something that I need, and that she is therefore not one-night-stand material, also, is not interested in me, romantically, and my assistant, who is, by the way, spending an unusual amount of time here lately, who is way to chipper for me to have sex with and who I cannot afford to lose, right now. He has offered to send a prostitute to my house, but, frankly, there is not enough detergent and rubbing alcohol to clean me and my house after having had a hooker here. Still, it is better than her ex, Mr. Nekrowski, who offered to import a wife from eastern europe, and even throw in the cattleprod for free.

It appears that my apology for not updating has gotten out of hand. So, I should probably stop before this turns into a proper post. So, sorry for the lack of updates. I am sure that I will write a new post any day now.

I need a catchphrase

Because if there is anything that I have learned after watching a lot of TV-sitcoms, you gotta have a catchphrase. I looked through the archives in order to find something, but it appears that the only thing repeated are a varietion on "Then Ashley beat them up", which is not very T-shirt friendly. I need to write less stories that ends with Ashley storming out of her house and punching everything that moves. Something like "Dy-no-mite!", "Eeeeey" or "Did I do that?". But not those, because those have not only been used, but they are also quite stupid.

"Home is where the ankle monitor is". No, that is a bad catchphrase, though I might make it the site tagline.
"My pants are burning". I don't know what that means, but I can imagine thousands of people chanting it at random times. That is sounds stupid, that is another thing.
"Don't blame the shut-in!". Well, I am stuck in my house. And I don't want to be blamed.
"Gotta go wash my hands". I already says this phrase about 12 times a day. Downside, it sounds insane.
"Gotta get my groove on". Well, I have never actually said this phrase. And I really don't want to. Upside, if I was on TV, that is when the audience would go "WHOOOOO!"
"I know I should do something about this, but I'm not gonna". To long. A catchphrase has got to be short and precise, so even the biggest idiot can repeat it. And the biggest idiot probably will repeat catchphrases. And no way that could fit on a T-shirt. How ever much I like the phrase. I might just use it, every once in a while.
"I dare you". Okay, short and simple. Downside, to ordinary a phrase to copyright. Ofcourse, that is what I throught about "You're Fired".
"Waddami, jinxed?". Sucks.
"Jus' doin' mah time, Boss". Well, I am not in real jail, so it is kind of meaningless.
"Well, thats just stupid". Can't disagree there.

Keepin' a low profile

There are people from my past out to get me. People that I have not seen for years, but who has tracked me down, people who has wronged me, and will again. That's right, school reunion. I am stuck in my house, so I can neither run, nor hide. Someone even had the gall the send a letter, asking if they could hold it in my house, since I cannot leave. Apparently, as it turns out now, I was quite popular, in school, despite me hating my classmates and everything they stood for. Well, actually they didn't stand for anything. Well, actually I once saw Janet Ravenburgh and Hank Obermeyer stand for nearly two minutes straight. They were having sex up a wall. Weirdest dang prom I ever saw. They made king and queen too.

We threw a burning chair out on the porch. It appears to keep the reunioners at a distance. All the doors and windows have been barricaded, but they are still outside. We have been communicating with Ashley using large cards, from the roof, but according to her, she looked out the window, and 17 guys immediately came over to hit on her. I hid Julia, who, by the way, has been forced to wear a T-shirt saying "I will never again write in someone elses blog, however good my intentions might have been", in the basement. For her own good. She didn't really understand why, but that is because she doesn't know these people like I know them. Or, knew them. Whatever.

I tried the classic method, of yelling "Hey, you kids get of my lawn", but, alas, years of old men screaming this has desensitized them to the point of them hardly reacting, beyond a call for beer. I tried rapping, since the most pathetic thing ever is white people rapping, but it must have become popular sometime after I stopped paying attention to the modern music scene, in the mid-nineties. Have they forgotten the lesson of Vanilla Ice? Well, yeah, who remembers Vanilla Ice?

Anyway, I remember from my school days, that if you do not stop your classmates from waiting to party, they could be waiting for months. Vince Skankbone and Terry Gollyhop had to repeat the ninth grade after waiting three months for a party, outside a random house. Turned out that the owner was 83 years old. Boy, did Vince and Terry get drunk at that wake. Anyway, I needed to cut them off at the root. Luckily, Denby came by, and he is an instant party killer. Really quite facinating. It is like Moses parting the sea. Only, if Moses was a short, weaselly guy and the sea was a bunch of twenty-something slackers running for their cars, since no one cool most be seen in the same place as Denby unless they are A: Physically hurting him or B: Making fun of him. Those are the rules and so shall it be.

Hi, everybody!

My name is Julia. I am 21 years old, which is actually just a little younger than my boss. I think that he has removed most references to his age, on the blog, but he is actually only in his early twenties. I think that my boss has mentioned me a few times. I am his assistent. My mother knows his mother and his mother knew from my mother that I was looking for a job. It is cool being a personal assistant, and all, but some day I would like to work with animals. I told my boss that, and he said "Oh, allow me to introduce you to Mark". I don't know entirely what he meant by that. Today, I will be writing the blog, because the Master, or Doctor, he was not entirely clear on what he wanted to be called the other day, when he suddenly decided to give himself a new nickname. Oops, forgot what I was writing. Anyway, he always complains that he doesn't update the blog as much as he should update the blog. Between fighting that nasty ol' man out on the lawn, washing his hands and just being lazy, he don't have as much time as you think. Right now, I think that he is watching really old episodes of something called Doctor Who. It is kind of weird, a really old man and his granddaughter and her teachers, and they are travelling in some grey box. Ofcourse, everything is grey in those old TV-shows. My boss likes to go straight to those features that he use, so he has most of his things on that thing where the computer remembers the name and the password, so you just have to press "OK".

So, wauw, I guess that I should tell you what he did, right? Yesterday, that mean old Mr. Denby, did my boss tell you that Mr. Denby yelled at me and ruined that nice sandwich I had made for him, but then my boss made me feel better by shooting stuff at Mr. Denby? Anyway, Mr. Denby was dancing on the lawn, with no pants. It was really gross, with those old man legs. I was glad that he was wearing underwear, but I wish that it was not those tighty-whitys. I would have shot at him, but I forgot to pick the tennis balls up, a couple of weeks ago, and now they are all gone. I told my boss, but he just said "Maybe he didn't deserve to become pan-pan-pantsman!". I don't know what that meant. He said that he would tell me later, after someone had beaten the Dar-legs, or something. But then he had fallen asleep, so I haven't found out yet what he meant. I don't want to go near Mr. Denby, because he is mean, so I called Ashley. She lives right across the street. I like her. She sometimes like to hit people, I once saw her kick a date, after he grabbed her and kissed her on the mouth, but she is fun to hang around with. I am here, most of the time, so I don't get to spend much time with other girls. My boss has said that it is alright for me to take days off, sometime, and that I should just ask, and he would not tell his parents so I would still get paid. It is actually his grandmother that pays my salary, because she is really rich, I don't really understand why, but... Wauw, I have written a lot. My boss always tells me "skip to the end", when I lose concentration while talking, but he is in the other room, and you can't talk to me, since you are all really far away. I guess that it is much harder to write a blog than I throught. Anyway, Ashley ran to Mr. Denby with a baseball bat, and Mr. Denby ran really fast, for a guy with pants around his ancles.

Oh, I can hear my boss asking for a cup of tea, so I better be going.

Hugs and Kisses, Julia.