Here’s a poser.
At what age, exactly, does the human body become unable to get up from a seated position without making some sort of grunting noise? You know what I’m talking about. The “Uuunghfff!” sound that escapes unwillingly from your lips as you ponderously extract your tectonically expanding butt from the seat cushion you’ve spent the last 3 hours turning into an ass-shaped Jello mold while you were watching Trading Spaces and eating cheesy-poofs.
I mean, I can’t be that old, can I?
I was going to be Spider-Man.
When I was a kid, I always thought it would be really, really cool to be able to swing from building to building on a thin wire while catching crooks ‘just like flies’. Somersaulting, back flipping, high kicking, twisting and turning and cracking wise; I envisioned my adult life would be just like my favorite comic book. I would be a superhero. Not just any superhero either, I would be the best superhero in the city; all the other guys would always call me trying to get a little team-up action to help boost there own popularity.
Yeah, even Batman and Wolverine.
Of course, since I was such a cool Super-Dude, I’d be nice when I turned them down and not rub my own popularity in their faces. I’d remind Batman that he already had Robin and tell Wolverine that the X-Men were his team-up friends. I wouldn’t turn them down because I thought I was too good for them or better than they were or anything stuck up or obnoxious like that. Nope, I’d turn everyone down because I’d need to keep my calendar open for the only team-up that was worth my time.
GeekMan and Wonder Woman vs. The Lust Monster!
Anywaste, as I got older I realized that becoming a superhero wasn’t a career choice in the real world and that gaining super powers would involve putting myself through far too many dangerous and painful experiments/accidents/years of training. Instead, I slowly throttled my childhood dream by gaining a newer dream more in keeping with the real world.
I would make a million dollars, fund my own private army and take over the world.
But no matter how many years have passed since my youth I’ve always remembered my dream of swinging through the city air on a thin wire while the teeming masses below looked up at me in awe. And now, thanks to my sweet, loving, understanding and all-around wonderful HoBiscuit, and some gift certificates she bought for me, I finally get to live my dream.
I’m going to Trapeze School!
Oh, he floats through the air
With the greatest of ease,
This daring young man
On the flying trapeze
Lesson 236:
An overheard discussion between three boys, all around 18 or so, at a restaurant talking about some girl they all know:
Guy 1:
“Dudes, I’m telling you, she’s damn sexy but she don’t know nuthin’ about sex!”Guy 2:
“Man, with a body like that she’s got to know about sex.”Guy 3:
“Yeah man. You’ve been dating her for what, three months now? And you mean to tell us she’s not giving you nuthin’?”Guy 1:
“Well…”Guy 3:
“Oh, snap! He’s got some!”Guy 2:
“Oh man, you best be telling us!”Guy 1:
“Listen, we’ve fooled around, ok? That’s all.”Guy 2:
“Don’t go soft, man. Tell us what happened.”Guy 3:
“Don’t be a wimp. Talk!”Guy 1:
“Well…”Guy 3:
“You did her! You fricking did her!”Guy 1:
“No, man! She just, you know, uh… used her mouth… an’ stuff…”Guy 2 & 3:
“Daaaaaaayyyymmmmm!”Guy 3:
“Yo’. Was it good, man?”Guy 1:
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you guys, she don’t know nuthin’ about sex!”Guy 2:
“It wasn’t good? With her!?”Guy 3:
“You’re fricking kidding!”Guy 1:
“No! I’m telling you, it wasn’t good. She used her teeth and stuff and it just wasn’t good. Hell, I bet I could do a better job!”
[crickets]
Guy 1:
“Oh crap. I did not just say that.”Guy 2 & 3 laughing:
“Oh man, yes you did!”Guy 1 lowering his head into his hands:
“I fricking hate you fricking guys.”
Loser is as loser does.
The following takes place on Saturday afternoon.
GeekMan:
“Grandma, Grandpa! HoBiscuit and I have come to visit!”Grandma:
“Oh! Look Grandpa, it’s GeekMan and HoBiscuit come to visit us!”Grandpa:
“It’s about time. I was afraid the next time I’d see my grandson was at my funeral.”Grandma:
“Shut up! Oh GeekMan, Hobiscuit, we love it when you visit us. We love you so much!”
[sloppy kisses and much hello hugging]
Grandpa:
“So, you’ve finally come over to fix the computer. It’s about time, I thought you’d only come to fix it after I was dead.”GeekMan:
“Sigh. Grandpa, why do you always say you’re going to die?”Grandma:
“Because he’s crazy, that’s why! And he’s driving me nuts! I could just kill him sometimes.”Grandpa:
“See? See!? That’s why I’m going to die! She’s going to kill me! You heard her, didn’t you? And I’m not crazy; she’s the one who’s crazy.”Grandma:
“Shut up!”Grandpa:
“You shut up!”Grandma:
“Shut up!”Grandpa:
“You shut up!”
[Heavy sigh from GeekMan]
GeekMan:
“Do I have to separate you two? Do you guys need a ‘time out’?”
[HoBiscuit laughs as Grandma and Grandpa look at the ground, shuffle their feet and mumble ‘No’ together]
GeekMan:
“Good. Now behave yourselves and I’ll fix your computer, OK?”Grandpa:
“OK.”GeekMan:
“So, what’s the problem?”Grandpa:
“There’s no sound anymore. When I play bridge on my computer…”Grandma:
“OUR computer!”Grandpa:
“…On our computer, no one talks to me anymore.”
[GeekMan closes his eyes as if to ask a higher power why he was being punished and steels himself to ask the question he knows he’ll regret asking]
GeekMan:
“Is the speaker power on?”Grandpa:
“Of course it is! What do you think I am, stupid?”GeekMan:
“Uh-huh. You’re sure it’s on?”Grandpa:
“I’ll hit you with my cane if you ask me that again. And it’ll hurt, too. I might be old, but I’m wiry. Strong, like ox. I’ll just pretend you’re my wife while I beat you to death…”
[Grandpa stares off into space, smiling]
GeekMan:
“Grandma, put down that lamp. You know Grandpa didn’t really mean that.”
[Grandma begins muttering curses under her breath as GeekMan proceeds to ‘fix’ the computer]
GeekMan:
“There you go, Grandpa. The computer’s all fixed.”Grandpa:
“That’s it? Twenty seconds and it’s fixed? What was wrong with it?”GeekMan:
“Uh… ahem, the speakers weren’t plugged in.”
[uncomfortable silence]
Grandma:
“He’s so stupid!”Grandpa:
“I’m not stupid! I’m just old! And you’re driving me crazy with your craziness!”Grandma:
“If I’m crazy it’s only because you’re driving me insane with your stupid craziness, you idiot!”Grandpa:
“See? SEE!? She’s crazy! She admitted it! You’re my witnesses.”Grandma:
“Shut up!”Grandpa:
“You shut up!”Grandma:
“Shut up!”Grandpa:
“You shut up!”
[GeekMan and HoBiscuit smile at each other as Grandma and Grandpa continue to insult each other like 5 year olds. Suddenly, both Grandma and Grandpa stop bickering and turn towards HoBiscuit and GeekMan with big, evil smiles on their faces.]
Grandma:
“So, would you two like to stay for dinner?”Grandpa:
“Yeah, we’ve got a steak we’ve been saving special, just for you.”
[in a blind panic GeekMan and HoBiscuit bolt for the door]
Just a quick note.
It is not possible, under any circumstances, to gracefully recover from a failed attempt to sip from a straw in a public space. Especially when the liquid you were attempting to sip squirts outward from your mouth and onto your new shirt because you didn’t make the proper watertight seal on the straw with your lips. It is even worse when you also have a coughing/sneezing fit due to the carbonated beverage finding its way into your nasal passages and attacking your sinuses with its deadly Bubble Explosions Of Tickling Pain. And as if all of that wasn’t bad enough, it’s even… uh, worse-er when you fail to remember to move the cup away from your face before sneezing/coughing.
Trust me on this one; a straw in your forehead HURTS.
I’m trying to be a good boy today.
I was told to clean, do laundry, find an MC & DJ, research florists and make a list of the songs I think would make great ‘first dance’ songs for the wedding. That means that I have almost no time to write about how beautiful my day was yesterday and how I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge just because I could. I guess I’ll just let these pictures speak for themselves and skip the funny anecdotes for today.
Hey, even my life can be good sometimes.
I went to a family barbeque on Sunday. Here are some highlights lowlights.
Aunt Vodka: “Geek! How are you? How are the wedding plans coming along?”
GeekMan: “They’re coming along fine, Aunt Vodka. How are you?”
Aunt Vodka: “FABulous! You know we bought the new computer thing, right?”
GeekMan: “No. What did you get?”
Aunt Vodka: “A really good looking one! Oh, it’s just DARLING. All retro and futuristic at the same time. And it even has one of those flat televisions, too.”
GeekMan: “You mean an LCD monitor?”
Aunt Vodka: “What’s a monitor?”
GeekMan: “Lord, give me strength.”Uncle Cigar: “Hey GeekMan, did your aunt tell you we bought the new computer?”
GeekMan: “Hi Uncle Cigar. Why, I’m just fine, by the way. Thanks for asking. And yes, she did.”
Uncle Cigar: “It’s a new IMAC. 17” screen. Looks great. Very slick.”
GeekMan: “That’s nice. I’m glad you both like the way it looks. But how’s it run? Does it do everything you want it to do?”
Uncle Cigar: “I don’t know.”
GeekMan: “You don’t know?”
Uncle Cigar: “Nope. We can’t get it to work yet. We’re waiting for you.”
GeekMan: “You’re waiting for me? For what!?”
Uncle Cigar: “What do you think? We need you to set it up and make it do the things we want it to do. So, when are you coming over?”
GeekMan: “So, this is Hell. Hmph. Nice furniture.”Cousin BBQ: “GeekMan! How’s the wedding plans coming along?”
GeekMan: “Great, great. How are you doing with the new baby?”
Cousin BBQ: “She’s great.”
GeekMan: “She’s a cutie, too.”
Cousin BBQ: “Yep, she sure is.”
GeekMan: “…”
Cousin BBQ: “Ahem. So, could you take a look at our computer? It’s got a problem with AOL or something…”
GeekMan: “Wow! A whole 30 seconds! I think that’s a new record.”Grampa: “GeekMan. Why don’t you visit?”
GeekMan: “Grandpa, I do visit. I was just over your house last week, wasn’t I?”
Grampa: “Last week doesn’t matter! I’m old! I could be dead in a week! You should visit every day.”
GeekMan: “I’ll try to come over more often, but it’s hard when I’m working, you know.”
Grampa: “Speaking of your work, you need to come over and fix our computer. There’s no sound anymore and we don’t like playing cribbage without the sound.”
GeekMan: “Shoot me. Now.”Mom: “Hi GeekMan, how’s the wedding plans?”
GeekMan: “They’re fine mom, how are you?”
Mom: “I’m okay.”
GeekMan: “…”
Mom: “…”
GeekMan: “Mom, what’s wrong?”
Mom: “I want a new computer. And a printer and a scanner, too. But I don’t know anything about this computer stuff so you’ll have to do the research and tell me what to get. And set it up, of course.”
GeekMan: “…”
Mom: “What’s wrong, GeekMan?”
GeekMan: “Quiet! I’m trying to use my latent psychic abilities to cause my own brain to boil and thus kill myself.”
Mom: “Don’t be silly. And stop making those faces; you’ll give yourself an aneurism.”
GeekMan: “I was going for heart attack, but I guess aneurism will have to do.”
Happy Fathers Day.
Let me ask you a question.
Why is it that when a guy wants some sweet lovin’ it’s perfectly acceptable for his woman to say, “Not tonight, Dear. I’m too stressed/tired/angry/sad/another emotion.” and the man must let the matter drop because there’s nothing he can do or say that won’t make him sound like a sex-starved jackhole. But should a woman want some sweet lovin’ and the man says he doesn’t it is automatically assumed that there is some sort of problem in the relationship and the unfortunate man must spend the next three fricking hours ‘discussing’ all the perceived problems the woman sees in the relationship only to wind up apologizing for everything under the sun without knowing why the frick he’s apologizing or even what the fricking hell he’s apologizing for!?
Ahem. Not that that’s ever happened to me. I’m just saying, y’know?
I should be a star.
I’m hip. I’m funny. I’ve been around for over two years. I should be a big Blogosphere A-List winner instead of the tiny, little, pathetic and unknown Geek that I am. After pondering the reasons why I’m not a bigwig in the Blogging universe for all of thirty minutes this morning, I believe I have come up with not only the root cause of my anonymity, but also the solution.
You see, I need a catchphrase.
Everyone else in the Blogging universe has one, some Bloggers even have two! A very select few even have more! I thought it would be easy, but coming up with a good catchphrase has eluded me for all of 45 minutes now, and I think it’s time to call upon my loyal readership once again to help me out. So, without further unnecessary verbiage I will now ask you to come up with a catchy, witty, funny, gloriously entertaining and ultimately world dominating catchphrase for this site that will propel me like a rocket to the top of the heap of festering excrement that we call the Blogosphere. Here are the rules:
No curses.
There, that should be easy enough. Leave your suggestions in the comments below so that the whole world can mock your idiotic ideas just like they did back in the second grade when you thought making paste flavored Jello was a good idea. The best catchphrases posted by 11pm Sunday, June 15th will be cultivated by me and then judged, also by me, and then sentenced to ten years probation for public stupidity. They will also be used as randomly rotating subtitles on the next redesign of this site, which will happen before the end of August.
Ready? Set? Comment!
I had the perfect sandwich.
A foot long classic Italian sub from Subway complete with lettuce (no tomatoes), onions, olives, cucumbers, salt, pepper, oil, vinegar, mayo AND mustard. It looked fricking beautiful. I found myself an open table in the Subway restaurant store eating area and prepared myself for yummy sandwich bliss.
That is, until this MOTHER-FRICKING HUGE fly came along.
Now, I’m not some wimpy, little, girlie-man of a Geek, people. Check the page title; see the word ‘Mighty’? Yeah, that’s what I’m talking ‘bout. I’m a Mighty Geek, so it takes a lot more than a common housefly to scare me into wetting myself and whimpering in fear. No ordinary fly would make me jump out of my chair and scream for my mommy like a little girlie-girl. So believe me when I tell you, this was no ordinary fly.
This was Flyzilla. (patent pending)
Flyzilla was about the size of my thumb, roughly the size of a bumblebee, and its wingspan should be measured in inches, not centimeters. It was so big, so unbelievably huge, that I could actually see its mouth cleaning thingies as it flew by my head. Of course, after my initial yelp of fear and surprise, I realized that it was only a fly and waved my hand in the universal ‘Be gone, foul insect!’ method and went back to my lunch.
But Flyzilla would have none of that.
You see, Flyzilla was tired. After a full 35 seconds of flight, Flyzilla needed to rest and recharge. Unfortunately, Flyzilla was so large that it needed a landing area larger than your average fly. Taking one more pass around my head, Flyzilla saw the perfect landing strip for his gargantuan girth and decided to land. Circling the area, Flyzilla reported to the tower, was given clearance to land and came in low and fast. Landing gear outstretched, Flyzilla managed to make a perfect six-point landing.
Right on my sandwich.
At this point you’re probably saying to yourself, ‘Yuck! That’s disgusting!’ I agree. I agree wholeheartedly. But wait, because what Flyzilla did next will live with me for years. Looking straight at me, making sure I was watching in disgust, Flyzilla turned sideways and proceeded to defecate on my sandwich!
Flyzilla had declared war.
Grabbing my sandwich like a club I jumped up and tried to smack him with it. Avoiding my clumsy attack, Flyzilla simply flew away towards the front of the Subway store, laughing all the way. Letting loose a scream of rage, I followed Flyzilla swinging at him every chance I got. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was most likely 30 seconds, Flyzilla landed on the front window of the store.
Now was my chance.
Sandwich held high for a quick death smack, I came creeping up to that window. Grinning from ear to ear I sneakily, stealthily reached the proper distance to kill Flyzilla with my Sandwich of Doom. Now I was close enough to hit him, but far enough away to not alert him to the danger he was in. Eyes fever bright with triumph; I brought down my sandwich on him like a sledgehammer.
And that’s when I noticed the girls.
Three of them, in fact. They looked like high school sophomores with their perfect bodies, Gucci backpacks and big, bright eyes. Eyes that were now staring in fear at the scary weirdo in the Subway store who was laughing like a demented clown and trying to break a plate glass window with a sandwich. And the worst part? At that very moment, right before the girls ran down the street screaming for the police; Flyzilla flew by my face completely unharmed.
And I swear to you, he was laughing.