Are you there Blog? It’s me, GeekMan.
I can’t wait until 3,000 comments Blog. That’s when fame starts. Do you think I’ll get an A-List commenter? It’s not so much that I really care about comments Blog, but as a guy I’m very competitive. And I’d love to be A-List… just for a moment or two.
Thank you Blog.
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I scream.
You know those trucks with the tinkling bells that you used to love to buy ice cream from during the summer when you were a kid? The one’s that sell sundaes, rocket ices and strawberry shortcake sticks to name a few? The very same trucks that now drive around town dispensing crappy ‘soft’ ice cream to all those crazy kids who are always messing up your lawn, looking for trouble or making a ‘racket’ at all hours?
Yeah, those trucks.
Well, I was walking down the street yesterday when I came upon one outside of a playground dispensing its delicious treats to all the small children and their parents. It was obvious by the sweat dripping down the VERY large ice cream truck drivers’ brow that he had been there for a while and, since it was just early afternoon, he would certainly be there for a few hours more. He looked tired, hot and maybe even a tad unhappy to be stuck in such a small space on such a hot day.
And that’s when it hit me.
This guy, who was handing out unsealed, open and edible foodstuff to young children on a hot day, was trapped. He was stuck in a cage with wheels, unable to escape for even a moment of time. How long is his shift? What happens if he needs to take a five minute break from the screaming brats gathered around his window? What does he do for a lunch? What about if he smokes? Is there a way for him to wash his hands after wiping the hot, sticky sweat from his brow? What, oh dear lord, what does he do when he needs to go to the bathroom?!
Oh. My. God.
I’m never eating Mr. Softee again. Ever.
I’m done.
I can’t keep up this pace, people. I’m not a machine! I’m a human being and I need sleep and food and all sorts of other things to keep me alive and in relatively good mental and emotional health or I’ll go nutso! As it is I’m already I’m losing it! The other day, as I sat on another airplane on my way to/from another city I actually began to believe that there were terrorist weasels sitting in first class demanding free mini-bottles of scotch or they would hijack the plane and make us fly to Jamaica for the International Limbo and Steel Drum Convention.
And I thought that sounded like a good idea!
Hrmph. So, in an totally useless attempt to retain whatever sanity I have left, I’ve decided that I’m going to have to step away from this website until my travel schedule slows down enough for me to spend more than one night in a row at home. For those of you who have not been keeping up, let me just say that although the places I’ve been to, and am going, might sound fun and exotic to you, to me they only sound like no sleep and lots of hard work.
And so, to answer Where’s GeekMan? III… In hell.
Seriously, since May 1st I’ve already been to five cities and by the middle of July, which is when my schedule slows down, I’ll have been to three more. And that’s not taking into account that whenever I am back in NY I’m working at some random hotel or office doing pre-production for the next trip out again. Just to keep you guys occupied for a few moments here’s a list of the places I’ve been and will be in order of my schedule:
Not to complain, but that’s a hell lot of traveling for two months.
You may have noticed that I mention NYC a lot in that list, well that’s because the companies that hire me have offices there and whenever I’m working for them I usually have to do pre-production at their offices. Sometimes I get to go home at night to see HoBiscuit and sometimes they put me up in a hotel in order to keep my leash on longer so I always remember who’s in charge and don’t get crazy ideas in my WageMonkey head while they sleep.
Like escaping to Jamaica to become a professional limbo-ist.
Anywaste, I’m sorry to tell you that because of my immense workload I’m going to have to stop writing my funny stories here for a while. I know, I know, “Since when have you written something funny? Haw, haw!” Well, I guess I deserve that since I’ve been pretty sporadic for the last month or so. But I promise that when I return in July I will once again be writing something funny (or at least something I think is funny) every weekday, just like old times.
I might also be debuting a new look. If I’m lucky.
I will try to write in here every chance I get; it’s not as if I’m going to just disappear off the face of the earth for a month you know. I just can’t promise to do it on any sort of regular schedule. So check back here every day and maybe, just maybe, there’ll be something here to make you laugh.
And if there isn’t… who cares?! I’m going to Cannes and Ghana! WooHoo!
It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.
Today marks the fourth birthday of this Web Log, which means that I have been wasting my bandwidth and your time with my inane words and stupid stories for over 1,459 days. It’s a wonder that I’m still here, but even more of a wonder that there are some people out there who actually enjoy my brand of craziness enough to come back week after week to read the drivel I post here at The Mighty Geek.
Idiots.
Four years ago I started this site with a whimper, barely a blip on the radar screen of the great information superhighway. This was just another worthless web site with nothing to offer the world but essays written in kindergarten-level English containing the naval-gazing, sophomoric humor of yet another online idiot with delusions of grandeur. I never wanted to change the world with this site; I didn’t want to change anyone’s mind, belief or viewpoint to mine. And because of that I never tried to be relevant, cutting edge or even controversial.
I just tried to be funny.
All I wanted to do was find a group of people out there in the world who would enjoy my stories and possibly even find them as funny as I do. Things happen all the time in my life that I wanted to share with others in the hopes that they too would find them as funny as I did. Things that have happened in my past, my present and yeah, sometimes only in my mind, make me fall down to the ground laughing while those around me scratch their heads in bewilderment wondering if they should join in or get a stick to place between my teeth.
And I was tired of choking on bark.
So, here I am, just like that stupid battery-bunny in the commercials; still going after four years of throwing my words out into the ether, and still wondering if anyone out there is listening. So today, on the day that my website celebrates its fourth year of existence, I’m going to do the unusual (for me) and ask you, my loyal and loving readership, to do something for me.
I want love.
Yeah, you heard me. I want love. I want those of you who have websites to write a little something about my site and link it to me. But I’m looking for the craziest, weirdest, wackiest words/sentences/paragraphs you’ve ever used to link to someone. I want word combinations that will make the editors of Merriam Webster’s dictionary cringe. Be creative. Be inventive. Be Geeky. Insult me in a new and creative way. Tell people why you keep coming back here even though I warn you not to. Make me laugh with how silly your words about me are. Hell, make yourself laugh and forget about anyone else. Most of all have fun with this, because lord knows I love me a good laugh.
Happy birthday to TMG. And happy damn day to you.
My brain farted.
Actually, I’ve just been so busy that I haven’t had time to come up with another clever method of giving you clues to my whereabouts. So, in a spasm of non-creativeness I’ve decided to simply list a few facts about the place I’m in and the hotel I’m staying at and see if anyone out there can come up with the right answers. Remember, I’m not just looking for the city/State/country, I also want the name of my hotel.
And now; The Clues. In orgasmically cryptic list form!
I miss my bed.
What’s it all for?!
When I shower I use some shampoo and a bar of soap. Sometimes, if I feel like pampering myself, I’ll use conditioner and sing show tunes. Now, I know that math isn’t my greatest academic strength (which, for the record, just so happens to be “How To Crack Your Best Friends’ Crack – Making The Perfect Rat-Tail Towel-Whip 101”) but when adding up all the products I use when I bathe, I consistently get the number 3.
Yet, there seem to be far more than three items in my shower.
A quick scan of my shower reveals to me three bars of soap, two large bottles of shampoo, no less than five travel-size bottles of shampoo from various upscale hotels, three travel-size bottles of conditioner, two bottles of lotion, a razor, a loofah and a partridge in a pear tree.
It’s a wonder I can fit in there with all that junk!
Now, on a subconscious level I guess I knew about the invasion, but I didn’t notice how cluttered my shower had become until this morning when, as I stepped over the rim of the bathtub (careful not to knock over the little shampoo bottles, of course) I discovered two new sponges and a hair scrunchy laying on the bathtub floor. Not knowing what to do about these items I promptly went back into the bedroom, woke HoBiscuit up and demanded an explanation.
She was not happy.
So, after being beaten to within an inch of my life by my not-so-lovely-when-she’s-sleep-deprived wife, she explained to me using small words in the soothing tones usually reserved for mentally challenged children, that I needed to grow up because while men (and men was said in the same tone she might have used to describe a particularly disgusting form of butt fungus) might be able to get away with cleaning themselves with whatever was handy, (spit, gravel, planks of wood with a fish carcass nailed to it) women needed to be pampered or they would simply rot where they stood and melt away into a puddle of grease, grime, dirt and dead skin cells.
Sugar and spice?! Hardly!
So now, as I lay here in my hospital bed recovering from HoBscuit’s love taps, I can only wonder;
What do you have in your shower, and why?
And do you care?
Once again work has reared its ugly head and I am going to be a traveling Geek for the next two months. I’ll be going to places both near and far and sometimes (like now) I’ll even be travelling to two different cities during the same week without going home first. Since it’s so difficult for me to post as often as I normally do while I’m traveling, I thought I’d distract you with a stupid, little game that I’m going to call, “Where’s GeekMan?”
And no, Waldo ain’t getting a dime in royalties from me.
Anywaste, here’s how it’s going to work. I’m going to give you some clues and you need to guess, not only what city I’m in, but also what hotel I’m staying at. That should help make this interesting since I never divulge that information to anyone for fear of all the adoring fans who would show up to pelt me with exclamations of their undying love & devotion, roses and slightly musty female undergarments.
Hey, if Jaleel White can get the ladies’ panties, so can the GeekMan.
We’re going to start with an easy one, but rest assured that it will get harder as the weeks go on. Anyone can play, leave your guesses in the comments. And now, on with the show…
The Clue:
Dear Daisy,
I must apologize in advance for the short length of my letter as your husband Don is irate at me for misplacing his blue shirt and so I must now go and fetch him another before the store closes. This short outburst aside, we’ve been having a wonderful time of it here, even though we are staying at a hotel infamous for its fowl play. Yesterday, as the sun set over the orange trees, we took a lovely walk through the park. It was quite beautiful, magical really, and both Don and I wished on the stars above that you were with us to share that moment.
Today I expect that we’ll meet with five of Don’s friends in the lobby of our hotel and then go for a swim. It should be a lot of fun, even if everyone in the world will see us frolicking in the water.
Yours,
Monsieur Bloom
Ladies.
Why is it that whenever a man and a woman have an argument over who works harder, deals with pain better, or does more around the house… actually, whenever a man and a woman have an argument about anything, why must the woman always use the Pregnancy Card?
It’s just not fair.
I mean, honestly. Where do women get off comparing cleaning the toilet to giving birth to a 6 pound baby boy? Where’s the correlation? Just because I complain that I don’t want to be your Sherpa and carry 40 pounds of your new shoes through a crowded mall while you continue to shop doesn’t give you the right to say I’m such a complainer that I’d never be able to carry a baby in my body for nine months like you. Because, really, without any proof to the contrary how do you know I couldn’t? You know, maybe I’m like a seahorse, did you ever think of that?
No? I didn’t think so.
Come on now, am I to believe that simply because I will never know the pain of giving birth that I’ve got to go visit your parents even though I’ve got the world’s worst migraine and really don’t want to go? Tell me the honest truth ladies, if a man tried to get out of asking for directions with the excuse that you would never know the shame of erectile dysfunction, how much sympathy would he get from you?
I’ll tell you how much; NONE.
So ladies, tell me how doing something that you’ve been biologically built to do since the dawn of time gives you the right to whip it out as an excuse, or valid-in-your-mind argumentative point, in every single argument you have with men? It’s getting silly that no matter what we say or do you can, and do, fling the pregnancy card in our faces to justify anything you want.
“Honey, I’m really tired. Do we really have to visit your parents tonight?”
[fwwip!] “You don’t know what tired is until after a day you’re pregnant and in heels!”“Hey, let’s stop here for a minute. I really need to use the bathroom.”
[smack!] “Try having a kids’ foot stomping on your bladder 24/7!”“It’s your stuff, why can’t you carry it?”
[pow!] “Because I’m going to carry your stuff for 9 fricking months, that’s why!”“Ow! I just stapled my upper lip to this door and it hurts!”
[bam!] “You want pain? Try pushing a watermelon through you pee-hole, wimp!”
Ladies, we get it, ok? Pregnancy sucks. Personally, I don’t think men should accept the Pregnancy Card as a valid point any more unless the argument is specifically about pregnancy or children. If women continue to use it I think we men should begin using the Sex Card, because everyone knows that sex is the only thing a man thinks about so of course we are constantly fighting off the urge to do it with every woman we meet.
“Why do you always have to spend our money on stupid electronic crap?”
[fwiip!] “Why don’t you spend more money on sexy lingerie?”“Stop watching the TV and talk to me!”
[pow!] “Only if you strip while we talk.”“You have no idea how hard it is to carry a child!”
[bam!] “You have no idea how hard it is not to have sex with your best friend!”
Aaaannnd… let the flames begin.
Guy walks up to a bartender and says…
“I’ll bet you a hundred bucks that I can piss in a glass way over there behind the bar and not spill a drop.”
A little surprised by the obviously inebriated fellows brash wager, the bartended examines the distance and shakes his head in disbelief.
“Mister, that’s got to be about six feet. There’s no way you can do that without getting your piss all over my bar, but if you want to throw your money away, I’ll gladly take it. BUT, I won’t clean your piss off my bar for anything less than a thousand bucks.”
The guy thinks about that for a moment before answering.
“Well, that seems only fair, man. You set the glass back there wherever you want and I’ll stand on this stool here. When you’re ready, I’ll begin.”
The bartender sets up the glass, the guy pulls down his pants and the peeing begins. The guy pees on the bar, on the bottle behind the bar, on the floor and even gets some on the bartender. Everywhere except in the glass behind the bar and during the whole scene the bartender is smiling and laughing thinking about the easy $1,000 he just made. When the guy is done, he gets down off the stool, zips himself up and orders another drink.
“Man, I knew I’d win that bet. Easy money. Why would you ever make such a stupid bet like that?”
“Well, I’ll tell you. See that guy crying at the corner table?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I bet him ten grand that I could piss all over you and your bar and you’d LOVE it.”
Thankyouverymuch. Remember, the 9:30 show’s different from the 7:30 show, try tonight’s veal, it’s delicious, and don’t forget to tip your waitress.
Goodnight!
Yeah, I know it’s lame, but I don’t care.
I figured that if everyone else could get away with a stupid list of all the posts that they liked best on their own site, I could too. So, here are the entries I posted in the last year that I think are so bad that everyone should be subjected to them once again just to remind themselves as to how awful this site truly is. I tried to keep it to one entry per month, but sometimes the horror could not be contained to just one post. I’ve also broken them down by month so you can follow my southward, spiraling suckiness through the year and wince in pain as you realize that even though scientists have theorized that these levels of suckiness have existed, no one has actually proven it until now.
May god have mercy on us all.
January
You May Think It’s Funny, But It’s Not
February
Writing Without Thinking
March
Medically Induced Epiphany #79834
The Purple Putz
April
An Army Of Dumb
May
A Sad, Sad Day
June
Grandfather’s Big Day
Where’s My Cane?
July
Oh Boy
Fat Bastard
August
Aneurisms Are Hard
September
September was a bad month. It has been removed from my calendar. Let us never speak of it again.
October
Bad Medicine
Emasculation Proclamation
November
The Mighty Kitchen
Dear Diary
New Arrival
Mind Over Matters