Medically Induced Epiphany #79834

It happens to me every morning.

You know how, when you’re in the shower, your mind seems to wander the great philosophical divide and come up with all those amazingly deep thoughts? You know, those great Questions Of Worth like, “What is the speed of darkness?” or “How do villains in movies always manage to recruit thousands of faceless henchmen who are willing to die for their cause?”

I mean honestly, they must have one heck of a good medical plan.

Anywaste, have you ever noticed that when you’re done with your shower and have dried off your fit and trim body and run to the computer to write those miraculous shower-inspired thoughts down, that you can never, EVER, remember what they were? They’ve simply disappeared, like morning mist, never to be recaptured again.

It’s enough to make you scream in frustration.

Well, I have some good news for all of you out there who suffer in silence from this great malady. I, GeekMan the Great, have finally figured out what we can do to reverse this process of epiphany-loss that is afflicting us all. It was a simple matter of carefully eliminating all external factors of influence until all that was left was the root cause of the problem. After hours of study, and over 28 showers, I have finally discovered what that root cause is.

Your towel.

That’s right, your towel. Don’t be fooled by its smooth, soft, Egyptian cottony goodness because that seemingly innocent towel is really an insidious weapon of thought control employed by the government to keep us free thinking citizens in check. Now, while I have absolutely no scientific proof to back up this theory, I do have the following observations;

  • When I am in the shower I get wet.
  • While I am wet I have thoughts of great intellectual and philosophical worth.
  • These thoughts stay with me as I exit the shower.
  • As I exit the shower I am still wet.
  • I reach for the towel to dry myself off.
  • … And a rift forms in the space-time continuum that sucks my ideas from my head and into the towel leaving only the sense of great loss behind.
  • When I leave the bathroom I no longer remember my thoughts of great intellectual and philosophical worth and I am no longer wet.

These observations can lead to only one conclusion; the water used when showering somehow interferes with the mind-numbing, thought-control rays the government is beaming down on us from their satellites in space! And that towels help reassert control over us by sucking up not only water, but our thoughts, our hopes and our dreams.

Damn you, towels. Damn you to hell.

Luckily I’ve managed to avoid the government’s insidious plot and spread the word to all of you by simply refusing to towel myself off this morning. Now, I admit I’m a little cold sitting around naked and wet while it’s snowing outside, but at least I remember what I was thinking about in the shower. And that means I’m smarter than the government, even without my tinfoil lined pants.

Wait a sec! I just remembered I forgot to take my meds this morning…

The Purple Putz

Sometimes words alone aren’t enough to describe a horrible injustice in the world.

Below is a picture of me from before I learned how to defend myself. It’s a picture of a time when I was under the power of a cruel and ruthless dictator known as Mother, who took great pleasure in dressing me in the latest fresh-from-the-bins-at-Woolworths fashions. Notice the perfect color coordination of my spiffy outfit, how it follows the contourlessness of my stick-like body. Don’t overlook the gayness of the wide, sharply pointed collar to accentuate the foppish color scheme of the pants that virtually scream, “Kick me, I’m a loser!”. And did you happen notice that the shirt is four sizes too large while the pants are two sizes two small? No? Well my gonads did, and they weren’t happy.

They weren’t happy at all.
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Fish Story #1

The year is 1984.

Fishman:
“Please… Please, let me back inside. I’m cured. I swear. Please? I promise, I won’t tell mom.”

GeekMan:
“I don’t know. You don’t seem cured yet. Our remedy for your ailment might not have worked fully.”

Fishman:
“It worked. I swear, it worked.”

GeekMan:
“I’m still not convinced. What do you think, Mr. Hentai?”

Mr. Hentai:
“Nah, he still looks a little green around the gills. Maybe if we pushed a little farther..?”

GeekMan:
“Sounds like a plan.”

Fishman:
[incoherent screaming]

GeekMan:
“I’m sorry; we couldn’t make out words in that screech of terror. What did you say?”

Fishman:
*sobbing*

Mr. Hentai:
“Oh. Look. He’s crying. That’s not a good sign.”

GeekMan:
“I concur, Mr. Hentai. It’s not a good sign at all. You see Fishman, a good sign would have been if you didn’t cry. That would have meant our methods of curing you had worked and then we could’ve ended the treatment, but since you’re crying I feel that we need to continue…”

Fishman:
“Oh, god no! Please no more! I swear I’ll never bother you guys again! I swear it! I swear!

Mr. Hentai:
“Fishman, bothering us when we’re playing Dungeons & Dragons isn’t the problem. Painting all our dice black so we can’t read the numbers isn’t the problem. Barging into the room when we’re playing ‘live action’ D&D with the two cute girls from down the block and then threatening to tell your mother what we were doing isn’t even the problem.”

GeekMan:
“That’s right, Fishman. The real problem is your mental block and we, being aspiring psychologists and psychiatrists, are merely trying to help you overcome your fears. Trust us, one day you’ll thank us for doing this.”

Fishman:
“You guys are crazy! Crazy! I’m telling mom about this and she’ll fix you good!”

Mr. Hentai:
“You will?”

Fishman:
“Yes! And she’s going to kill you both so I won’t ever have to thank you for this! You hear me?! I’ll never thank you. Never!”

GeekMan:
“Oh, I think you will. Mr. Hentai, let’s put him back outside for a few more minutes.”

Fishman:
“AAAGH! NOOOoooooo!!! I’m going to kill you both! AAaahhh!”

Mr. Hentai:
“Sigh. He certainly doesn’t sound cured of his fear of heights, does he GeekMan?”

GeekMan:
“He sure doesn’t, Mr. Hentai. It would appear that our remedy of hanging him face down out of a window by his ankles six floors from the ground just isn’t doing the trick. Maybe we should try a higher floor?”

Mr. Hentai:
“How about the roof?”

GeekMan:
“Mr. Hentai, I like your thinking.”

Fishman:
“Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick…”

To this day Fishman is still afraid of heights. And open windows.

One Of Those

Overheard conversation of the decade.

Father:
“You’re not doing well in math because you don’t apply yourself.”

Son:
“But dad…”

Father:
“Don’t ‘But dad’ me. If you don’t do well in math you’ll never get anywhere in life. Don’t you want to be smart like your dad?”

Son:
“I guess.”

Father:
“Listen to me son, because I know what I’m talking about. There are only three kinds of people in this world, those who can count and those who can’t. Don’t be one of those, OK? OK?!”

Son:
“OK, dad. I promise.”

He promised? Promised what? Huh?! What?! What did he promise?!! What! Did! He! Promise?!?!?!?! ARGH!

*pop*

Ow. Somebody get me an aspirin and a mop please, my head exploded.

Plane Funny

Want a neat practical joke for long plane flights?

You know those hard, plastic cups the flight attendants give you for your drinks on the plane? Well, when you’re sitting next to a kid, or even a college-age person, try this bit of fun. Take the empty cup and place it in your armpit without your seatmate seeing you do it. Then, complain loudly that your neck is killing you and ask if it would be alright for you to crack it. Without waiting for an answer, twist your neck as far as you can and, just as you reach the point that it would look painful to your seatmate, crush the cup in your armpit by squeezing your arm to your side and then fall over going completely limp.

Trust me, it will look and sound EXACTLY as if you just broke your own neck.

Air Sickness

“Excuse me, sir. Would you mind if I sat next to you?”

Putting my book down on my lap, I looked up at the woman standing in the aisle. She was dressed in a typical business woman’s suit, light grey with a cream colored blouse or shirt under the jacket, and she was looking longingly at the open window seat next to me. I had just been congratulating myself for being lucky enough to get a seat without any neighbors so I could stretch out and relax for the 5 hour flight, but of course the Gods Of Aviation could never let that happen.

Sometimes I truly hated the gods’ sense of humor.
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Jet Pain

Yes, it is true, I’m leaving you again.

I’m headed to Vegas for work tomorrow and will probably be gone for about a week. And because I am such a self-abusive loser, I will once again expose my fragile ego to the masses and invite everyone who wants to meet me to come on out to Vegas for lunch or dinner. And of course, once again I will have no takers.

Come on people! I may be a Geek, but I’ve still got feelings!

Honestly, I don’t know why I keep trying. I mean, it’s just like back in third grade when nobody wanted me to sit with them during lunch and I had to sit on the floor next to the bathrooms and eat my FlufferNutter and bananas sandwich all alone. Crying at how cruel the world was and making empty vows of revenge on all the cool kids. And all they ever did was point at me and laugh… and laugh… and laugh…

*sob*

Oh man, see what you did? Now I’m crying! That’s it, I hate you all! I’m taking my toys and going home and I’m not going to talk to you for at least a week! So there! Are you happy now, Poopie-faces? Huh?! Are you happy?!

*sniffle*
Somebody get me a tissue.

Dig Your Own Hole

Let the games begin.

HoBiscuit and GeekMan are sitting in the house, she’s reading and he’s working on the computer while listening to randomly shuffled MP3s when Pat Benatar’s “Love Is A Battlefield” comes on. Halfway through the song HoBiscuit, The Mighty Wife, turns to GeekMan with a mischievous look in her eyes.

HoBiscuit [being cute and coy]:
“Honey, you know I love you, right?”

GeekMan [not really listening]:
“Uh-huh.”

HoBiscuit [unhappy with GeekMan’s inattention]:
“Do you love me?”

GeekMan [unheeding of the warning signs, still not listening]:
“Uh-huh.”

HoBiscuit [eyes angry slits and lower lip pouting]:
“Do you know that our love is a battlefield?”

GeekMan [oblivious]:
“Mmm-hmmm.”

HoBiscuit [angry in an adorably cute way]:
“Well, do you know that I’m winning?”

GeekMan [finally waking up to the fact that he’s in danger]:
“Huh? What? I don’t… you… what?”

HoBiscuit goes back to reading her magazine with a very, very satisfied smile. For the rest of the day GeekMan is so confused and frightened that he actually does the laundry and vacuums without being asked.

Game – Set – Match : HoBiscuit.

Circus Phreak

I’ve got animal crackers in my underwear.

They’re the vanilla animal crackers you get in a big teddy-bear tub from Costco or BJs. There’s an elephant, a lion, a llama, a seal on a ball and a monkey. The monkey is my favorite. He’s the only one not leaving crumbs in my crotch. I think I’ll call him Howard. Howard the Circus Monkey, because he’s in the animal cracker circus. And to show him how much I like him I’m going to eat Howard last.

Hey, anyone out there want a nice, warm animal cracker?

Amazing Stories

There are eight of us in the restaurant.

One of our friends is telling a us the story of how she came home late one night, a little drunk, to find her boyfriend unconscious and bleeding from his head on the floor of their apartment after he had spent the night at a bachelor party.

No, not mine.
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