High School Memories #41

In high school, me and my friends started a club called the "Danger Club". It was kinda ironic, because really we didn't do anything overly dangerous. Basically, it was a group of dudes who would try to kill boring lunch hours by thinking up and performing ridiculous stunts.

Our main stunt of choice seemed to be "table climbing", a simple activity where you would lie face down on top of a wobbly old plywood table. Then someone with a stopwatch would time you as you climbed all the way around, 360 degrees, without touching the floor.

Sometimes we would get 2 tables together and race eachother while others cheered as spectators. The fastest person to do it would be named the 'winner'.

Now when I look back fondly on those times, I wonder...

...why couldn't we just eat our lunch and smoke hash in the parking lot like normal kids?

My Long John in Your Donut Hole

I just read almost half of 1200 respondents to a recent survey said that, in any given week, coffee is more important than sex.

Say huh?

Oh wait, let me clarify that that survey? Um, yeah, it was done by the Dunkin' Donuts restaurant chain. Seriously.

Now, just what are you crazy donut boys up to over at Dunkin' D? No good, no doubt! Surveys about coffee and sex? How about just making a half-decent donut or sweep the floors once in a while?

No doubt like you, I'm not sure what coffee and sex have to do with eachother. I mean, since when did coffee ever get in the way of sex and vice versa anyhow? They don't. You screw, sleep then have coffee. Or conversely, you have coffee, go home and screw. Or then there's the use of coffee as a the decoy: you ask them to come up for coffee, actually go through the act of making it, and then screw like 13 year olds.

No, sex and coffee are two different worlds. For instance, I'll bet you'll never in your life hear this utterance from a partner's mouth:

"Um, honey, I know you're about to perform that fantastic act known as fellatio on me, and much as I love and appreciate it, I regret to inform you that I do believe I have a hankering for a frappucino instead."

Well, unless the dude's gay and doesn't know it yet.

But I digress.

So, according to this survey, almost half of respondents prefer coffee to sex, eh? Well, why not? After all, this survey was done by Dunkin' Donuts right? Have you seen the fuckin' goblins that hang around that joint? I wouldn't fuck those people with a day-old long john. Hell, if my sexual partner spent that much time scarfing down crullers and chuggin' back shitty coffee, somehow I don't think sex would be the first thing on my mind either.

Besides, have you ever made out with someone who had a severe case of coffee breath? No thanks sister. I'll be in the bathroom with my Sears catalogue and a pack of Certs.

Things To Watch Out For

(off the top of my head...)

Ya know, Franklin D. Roosevelt once said, "the only thing to fear is fear itself". Oh ya? Well, maybe he forgot about...

Plane crashes. Car wrecks. Train derailments. Sinking boats. Drunk drivers. Blind drivers. Reckless drivers. Drive-by shootings. Hurricanes. Tornadoes. Tropical storms. Ice storms. Tsunamis. Deadly earthquakes. Volcano eruptions. Floods. Poisonous snakes. Poisonous spiders. Scorpions. Sharks. Killer bees. Dogs with rabies. Pit bulls with rabies. Pit bulls without rabies. The bird flu. West Nile. Mad cow disease. SARS. SIDS. AIDS. Flesh-eating disease. Cancer. Syphyllis. Gonnorhea. A strange discoloration on your dick. A strange perforation on your A-hole. A growth that changes colors. Bleeding gums. Changes in moles. High blood pressure. Low blood pressure. A crazed madman flaunting a loaded pistol. A bomb-wielding suicide terrorist who hates you religiously. A disgruntled postal employee. Pissed-off loan sharks named “Shitface”. A botched medical procedure. Con artists. Computer viruses. Spyware. Adware. Worms. Chemicals in the air. Chemicals in your food. Spit on your burger. Fecal matter in your burger. Drugs in your drink. Disfiguring factory mishaps. Career-ending sports injuries. Bad drugs. Tainted drinking water. Tainted blood. Unstable nations with nuclear capabilities. Theft. Assault. Sexual assault. Hate crimes. Kidnapping. Kiddie porn. Infidelity. Adultery. Trans-fats. Too much fats. Too much sun. Unstable economy. Corruption. Job security. Bankruptcy. Audits. Bank machine fraud. Late charges. Penalty fees. Bad credit. Global warming. Obesity. Vandalism. Isolation. Loneliness. Abandonment.

…and ofcourse, personal failure.

Now get out there and have a nice day.

So...It's Yellow Power Now?

Have you heard about these cheap, disposable urine-powered batteries that scientists have apparently created?

I just like to think they atleast tried a cola first or something, ya know? Maybe some fizzy ginger ale?

I mean, if I were sitting in a lab somewhere in Assjabber, Middle America trying to come up with a conservative, environmentally-friendly way to create power, somehow the thought of working with my own piss wouldn't instantly spring to mind. But then, call me stuffy but I got this thing where, you know, I don't like, well...touching my own waste product.

It also begs the question, what did these researchers go through before they got to pee? I mean, it can't be the first thing they thought of, right? And the real question - did they hit the Number Two? Come on, you know if they're making batteries outta urine, some poor sap was given the big test:

"Hey Dougie, the team's making batteries outta renewable resources, ya know...saliva, pee, that kinda thing. Sorry bud, but you drew the short straw. Now here's some Metamucil. See what you can't pull off there, sport."

Most Useless Talent of the Week

Dead Cricket Spitting

Danny Capps of Wisconsin set the world record for farthest distance anyone has spat a dead cricket from their mouth.

It kind of begs the question...has anyone else ever spat a dead cricket from their mouth.

Nonetheless, Danny is the proud record holder having heaved the dead insect over 30 feet in loogie form. Good job Danny. Now that you have accomplished that particularly fascinating feat, perhaps you can get back to your regular job - watching dust settle on your TV and picking out the jam between your toes. Ofcourse, I'm only assuming. I'm sure in real life, someone who has found the time (and inclination) to develop the mastery of spitting dead bugs record distances must be busy theologians or at the very least, working on a cure for cancer...you know...on the side. Wouldn't want something like a little incurable disease get in the way of the truly important goals in life like horking dead crickets across the room.

So, way to go Danny! You are the much-deserved winner of this week's 'most useless talent'. Wear it well and hork up a good ol' locust for us all in celebration, numbnuts.

An Open Letter To Diddy

Dear Sean "Diddy" Combs,

So, I hear you are dropping the "P" from your name.

Fine. Drop the "P". Drop the "Diddy" for all we care. You should know, we're all quite aware your real name is Sean Combs. It really doesn't matter what you wanna call yourself. Announcing to the press that you're changing your fake name is like calling the press to say you have now decided your giant pretend bunny-rabbit pal named "Harvey" is no longer a rabbit after all, but a giant pretend armadillo. Great. Whatever turns you on, dude.

Now, I understand one of the reasons you did this was to clear up the confusion for your fans. Apparently, at some of your concerts, fans can't figure out what to chant: "P. Diddy" or just "Diddy". While I do accept the reasoning that this will hopefully end that stressful, sleep-deprivating conundrum (Oh, how it must keep you up at night!), perhaps you could have solved this difficult dilemma with an even simpler solution: going by your real name in the first place.

Ok, ok, I admit, a crowd of overzealous hip-hop fans chanting "Sean" doesn't quite have the same ring to it as it would with a drunken crowd of hooligans at a Glasgow Football stadium, but it is after all...your name.

By the way, what the hell does "Diddy" mean? Actually, nevermind. The answer is bound to be underwhelming in the least.

Well, good luck with your new moniker. I certainly hope people quickly grasp the concept of your new decision and begin chanting "Diddy" with the desired passion and syncopation that a talented artist like you expects, and that it doesn't have the opposite effect and leave people chanting the name you're more likely setting yourself up for: "Pretentious, Self-Important Cocksucker".

Good luck,
All my best,
A fan (especially of that Godzilla song - it rocks my muffin!)

S. Monk

Saucy Thoughts #52

Ya know, they say we should wear condoms during oral sex.

Hmm...ya know, that's gotta be like eating a cheese slice through the wrapper, dontcha think?

And let me tell ya, its no fun for the cheese either.

Death By Pac-Man

A 28-year-old man died of an apparent heart attack after playing computer games non-stop for 49 hours in an Internet cafe in Korea.

Wow. My mom was almost right. Actually she just thought I'd go blind. Who knew it would fucking kill you?

By the way, if you can really afford to spend 49 hours in an internet cafe playing video games non-stop, well...you may as well die anyhow, 'cause honestly, where can you go from that beautiful nirvana...except down.

Burn out, my friend.....don't fade away (I hope this sorry motherfucker atleast got the high score).

I Say, Set The Tree On Fire...

In Nashville, fifty-two tree-climbers from several countries scrambled up trees at the International Tree Climbing Competition this week...now, how come this wasn't on ESPN 2?

Now, I certainly don't intend to discredit the intricacies and dept skills I'm sure it requires these so-called athletes to climb a tree, but is an "international" competition really worthy of the cause? I mean, here we are, a civilized, free-thinking society and there are still upright-people-on-2-legs flying around the globe to climb a fucking tree like a spider monkey - that's the progress we've made.

Sure, when you were a kid, you probably liked to climb the occasional tree. It was challenge. Usually not to get caught. But then, so was taking a crap in the woods, but you don't see no "International Taking A Dump In the Bushes Competition", do ya?

Oh well, I suppose it's not too surprising. We've done worse than tree-climbing competitions, that's for sure. And we are a bored group of bio-units. After all, we are all part of the same bored society that invented tongue and lip piercings, Hackey-sack, The Simple Life and Adam Sandler movies.

Are You Talkin' To Me?

Saucy is going on hiatus until Monday...

...I've got to.

I'm feeling way too Travis Bickle these days.

Someone's gonna get hurt. See ya on Monday!

Rock Band Names I Just Thought Up #14

Here's another list of ten band names I just made up staring into the vacuous blankness that is this empty blog entry page. Got a band? Take one. Don't thank me - just gimme some residuals if you hit it rich motherfucker...or you'll have a major lawsuit up your arse. In other words, consider this my service to the world.

It ain't much, but then again, it ain't really very fulfilling either.

The Passover Dogs
Chimichanga and the Loose Bowel Movement
Stressed-Out Hamster
The Complete Asshole String Quartet
The Overcooked Sushi
Pamela Anderson's Former Boobs
Hot Chocolate Enema
The American Idol Assassins
Constantly Urinating (for more of performance act)
Hungover Monkey

Random Thoughts That Occur To Me

~ If I was a professional athlete, the sport would border on leisure.

~ there probably shouldn't be hair growing there.

~ I wonder if there's a name for that gunk that's in the corner of your eye when you wake up.

~ chicken balls should probably be called battered-chicken balls. In addition to being more accurate, it just sounds funnier.

~ I constantly wonder what I'm thinking about.

~ I think my favorite word is 'cob'.

~ I heard a rooster crow, but it certainly didn't sound like "cock-a-doodle-doo" to me. It was just a bunch of loud, incoherent bird noises. Someone is lying.

~ I think my feet are growing wider.

~ Damn, I just wish I could remember something about my days in the womb.

~ I wonder if anyone's made a t-shirt that said, "Read this shirt and I'll beat the shit out of you". I bet you could sell a bunch of those.

~ I really should be doing something with my life. What time does The Surreal Life come on?

My Naked Calender

By popular demand, I have decided to give my blog-readers a small tease of my "naked calender" ( see previous blog entry).

Order forms will be available soon.

I'm the one on the right, with my ol' army pal Lynndie.

She's such a kidder...