It’s funny because it’s true.
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The World According To A New Yorker
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Author: GeekMan
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Ketchup Time
Things I’ve done in the last week and a half.
- Flew to Atlanta
- Went to a cemetery
- Flew to Dallas
- Went to a Brazilian restaurant and ate my weight in dead animal flesh
- Swore I’d never eat that much again
- Worked like the wage-whore I am for yet another ungrateful client
- Went back to Brazilian restaurant and ate even more than the first time
- Pondered the viability of purchasing personal home/travel defibrillator
- Got forklift/taxi to airport
- Flew home
- Bought a new scanner
- Attempted to install scanner, v1
- Cursed
- Attempted to install scanner, v2
- Cursed some more
- Attempted to install scanner, v3
- Cursed, had aneurism, fell to floor
- Foamed at the mouth as my new perspective allows me to see that scanner was not plugged into outlet
- Attempted to install scanner, v4 – problem solved
- Cursed self for being an idiot
- Read 5 books
- The Art of Photoshop
- Summer Knight
- Bureau 13: Judgment Night
- Something M.Y.T.H. Inc.
- The Book of Athyra
- Digitized less than half my CD collection (28 GBs and growing)
- Saved the world from egomaniacal madman intent on ruling the world from his secret underground lair located on a small, skull-shaped island off the coast of Malaysia
- Wedding stuff
- Paid bills
- More wedding stuff
- Paid more bills
- Even more wedding stuff
- Paid even more bills
- Made a tourniquet out of $100 bills to stop the outward flow of money from my wallet
- Attempted suicide by repeatedly dropping giant-sized annual wedding spectacular issues of women’s magazines on my head – attempt failed miserably
- And now, finally, I have begun Blogging again
Let the rejoicing begin.
TMG Preloaded
Act 2, Scene 3 – The Interrogation
Fade in.
Agent Bread:
“As you can see, we’ve had our eye on you for some time now, Mr. Mann. It seems that you’ve been living two lives. In one life, you’re Geek T. Mann, graphic designer for a pathetically small home business, you have a social security number, you pay your taxes, and you help your fiancé do her laundry. Taking extra-special care with her tiny, thong underwear that you enjoy trying on before washing.”
GeekMan:
“What?! How did you..? Uh… I mean, I never do that! Never!”
Agent Bread:
“Mr. Mann, you’re wearing a pair right now. Are you not?”
GeekMan:
“…”
Agent Bread:
“…”
GeekMan:
“Bastard.”
Agent Bread:
“Indeed. As I was saying Mr. Mann, you’ve been living two lives. That was one. The other life is lived in computers, where you go by the idiotic alias ‘GeekMan’ and are guilty of writing the worst, most unfunny drivel ever to be vomited upon the poor, unsuspecting denizens of the internet. You do this while at the same time breaking virtually every rule for good writing that we have a rule for.”
GeekMan:
“That’s not true! I haven’t broken every rule!”
Agent Bread [raising eyebrow]:
“Indeed, Mr. Mann?”
GeekMan:
“In-frickin-deed, you Gestapo bastard. I, uh, can spel good so’s my word usages be’eth corekt and spelt rite, I don’t, uh, use, erm, excessive… uh, commas, or, uh… sound effects as, ahhh, words, neither do I ever have changed tenses mid sentence or used much more than all the necessary words to have a sentence completed without the use of excessive or redundant words within the sentence since I also haven’t ever created run-on sentences for the sake of cramming as much info into the one sentence as inhumanly possible or ever used excessive exclamation points!!!”
Agent Bread:
“Riiiiiight.”
GeekMan:
“Damn straight.”
Agent Bread:
“As I was saying Mr. Mann, one of those lives has a future, and one of them does not. I’m going to be as forthcoming as I can be, Mr. GeekMan. You’re here because we need your help. We know that you’ve been slacking in your regular updates lately. Now whatever you think you may need, time off, a break, a vacation, is irrelevant. Your feelings in this matter are irrelevant. Your sanity is irrelevant.”
GeekMan:
“Well, if I’m so frickin irrelevant, then what is relevant?”
Agent Bread:
“Updates.”
GeekMan:
“Updates?”
Agent Bread:
“Yes, Updates. My colleagues believe that I am wasting my time with you but I believe that you wish to do the right thing. We’re willing to wipe the slate clean, give you a fresh start and all that we’re asking in return is your cooperation in this small matter.”
GeekMan:
“Yeah. Wow, that sound like a really good deal. But I think I got a better one. How about I give you the finger… and you give me my life back.”
Agent Bread:
“Mr. Mann. You disappoint me.”
GeekMan:
“Watch me cry. You can’t scare me with this Gestapo crap. You’re not real. This web site isn’t real. None of this is real. I had a life once and I want it back.”
Agent Bread [ugly smile]:
“Tell me, Mr. Mann. What good is having a life if we won’t let you live it?”
GeekMan:
“You wouldn’t!”
Agents advance on GeekMan.
Agent Bread:
“You’re going to write for us, Mr. Mann, whether you want to or not.”
GeekMan:
“No. No! NNNNOOOOOooooo!”
Cut to GeekMan’s apartment. He is rudely awakened by the buzzing of his alarm clock. Shaking his head in disbelief, he heads to the bathroom to wash up. He looks at his reflection in the mirror and does the world’s worst Neo impersonation.
GeekMan:
“Woah. I know Code-Fu.”
Bread:
“Show me.”
Massive bullet-time, slapping, screeching, sissy fight ending with GeekMan’s bloody and beaten remains lying, face down, in the bathtub.
Bread:
“Now quit slacking off and start updating your frickin site again, ya loser!”
GeekMan:
“Yessir. Right away sir.”
Bread:
“Good. You’re beginning to believe.”
Bread leaves.
GeekMan [crying softly to himself]:
“‘There is no spoon’ my frickin ass.”
Fade to black.
Life: 9125
Blog: 0
I’ll be gone at least a week.
My best friend in the whole world has had a family catastrophe and it is necessary for me to go to him in his time of need and offer him all the comfort and support I can possibly give. I don’t know exactly when I’ll be back, but I’d be mighty appreciative of any and all good thoughts and/or well-wishes that you might send our way during this crisis.
Thank you.
Happy (Belated) Bloggerversary!
Once again, my attempt to mark my Bloggerversary with a rhyme fails miserably.
It happened just the other day
That is, the 17th of May
But no one even stopped to say
Happy Bloggerversary!Now’s your chance, so don’t delay
Click ‘comment’ and type away
That will help me celebrate
My Happy Bloggerversary!It was two years ago that day
That I, The Geek, came out to play
And now it’s time for a par-TAY
Cause it’s my Bloggerversary!To show my joy I dance and sway
HoBiscuit begins to pray
Bread just laughs and calls me gay
But it’s my Bloggerversary!Show me love, send links my way
Or else a medium fillet
How about a box of clay?
It’s my Bloggerversary!I could stand to lose some weight
And llamas like orange sorbet
Something, something, something yay
Something Bloggerversary…Hmmm… at times like this I’m really, really happy that I’m not a professional songwriter.
And I bet you are, too.
Don’t Read This
Let’s try a little experiment, shall we?
Today I’m just going to write whatever comes to mind and I’m not going to edit what I write at all. That’s right, I won’t even spell check. I wonder if I’ll actually have anything funny to say if I don’t actually think about what I’m going to say.
So, here I am. Typing.
La la la. Tickity-tack, tickity-tack.
…
I wonder if those are periods, dots or ellipses?
Well, so far this experiment is a colossal waste of time. Nothing funny is coming to mind and suddenly I have writers block. Well, not really. I could always write something stupid. But then, that wouldn’t be any different than any other day, now would it?
I’m a boring, unfunny schmuck, aren’t I?
Wait, I can write something if I just concentrate a little. How about trying some writing exercises? Hmmm, what to try? Oh yeah, the “repetition” method. So, choose a word at random and then type whatever comes to mind. Right. I can do this. So, think of a word, Geek. One word. Just a single word. Comeon! I can do this, I know it!
…
Dammit.
OK, well, dammit’s a word, right? We can go with that. Let’s make dammit work for us. Dammitdammitdammitdammit. That’s a fun word to say isn’t it? Dammit. Hah! I like saying that word. It makes me feel like my mouth is moving in the same way a fish out of water gasps for air. Hahahahaha! Stupid fish, he shouldn’t be out of the water. The water is his home. Does he think he’s too good for his home? Does the stupid fish think he’s special? Why? He’s not special, he’s just a fish. He should go home before he dies. But he thinks he’s too good for his home, huh? Home’s not good enough for you? FINE.
Stupid fish. Go ahead and suffocate. See if I care.
Well, now what should I do? Should I keep writing, or just end this stupidity before someone comes over here and puts me out of my misery? Maybe I should stop. My stomach feels kinda weird, like a bubble or something is inside me trying to get out. You know, come to think on it I almost feel as if I have to…
Ahhhhhhh…
Heh, I just farted.
Maybe if I sit real still it won’t stink. Ok, I won’t move, not a muscle. Here I am, not moving, please don’t stink or the people in this office will never hire me again and I really need the money so I can pay for the wedding. Please don’t stink, please don’t stink, pleasepleaseplease, oh please…
Holy crap! Wheee-ooo! What the hell did I eat for lunch!?
OK, that’s it, I’m done. This experiment sucks and I swear I’ll never do something this idiotic again. From now on its plan ahead before I write or I just skip that days post and count my blessings. Stupid, stupid experiment. I can’t believe I wrote about farting. I’m so frickin embarrassed I think I’ll drown my sorrows in a carbonated beverage in another part of this office far, far away from the smell I’ve just invented that appears to be removing the paint from the ceiling.
Heh, I bet that stupid fish wishes he was back in the water now, huh?
Calling Dr. Freud
I had a dream last night.
I know, I know. You’re shocked and amazed. Believe me, I was too. I mean my dream wasn’t anything too amazing but since I rarely remember my dreams, I thought it would be fun to tell you about it.
It won’t make sense, but then again, who the hell cares?
It starts off, as most of my dreams do, with me in a public place trying to hide the fact that I’ve forgotten my pants. This dream takes place at an outdoor mall and my teeny-tiny penis is flapping in the wind for all the shoppers to see. Of course, as is the way with dreams, no one else seems to be aware of my lack of body covering until the Dalai Lama rides up on a yellow llama and asks me why I’m naked. Then, and only then, does everyone in the area stop to point and laugh at me.
Mortified, I punch the Dalai Lama in the face and run away.
Turning a corner, I’m suddenly in the middle of a vital business meeting and there is something very, very important I’m supposed to be doing. Unfortunately for me I can’t remember what it was, but I do know that I wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget to do it.
Then I remember that I left the note in my pants pocket.
Knowing how important the note is to my career, I jump on a nearby jet airplane to go home and get the note. During the trip, the plane somehow turns into the helicopter from the movie Blue Thunder being piloted by someone who looked like Thelma from Scooby Doo, but thinner.
Come on, you know she was a tiger in bed. The brainy ones always are.
Anywaste, she tells me we’re under attack so I jump out and land on the roof of my house right before the helicopter blows up. Running inside my house I find that it’s now the world’s largest library and what I need to find is not a simple note in my pants, but a book hidden somewhere in the library.
And I’ve only got ten minutes to find it or I’m fired.
As I’m frantically searching the library for the book, Frankie Muniz (Malcolm, from Malcolm in the Middle) shows up and challenges me to a fight. For some reason or other I agree to fight him and suddenly I’m in a boxing ring getting my butt kicked by a 16 year old kid while HoBiscuit is screaming from the sidelines, “Kick that Geeks ass, Frankie!” Just as he’s about to knock me out, my alarm clock goes off and I wake up. And the strange thing was that when I woke up I wasn’t wearing any pants.
So, anyone want to explain the meaning of this one to me? Anyone?
There Is No Spoon
Woah. Keanu still can’t act.
I saw The Matrix last night and I’m actually vibrating with anticipation for the third installment. The movie started out a little weirdly but made sense soon enough, and then the movie took off like a rocket.
And I mean that literally.
I won’t give away any spoilers or even discuss my thoughts on the movie but I did want to give those of you who are planning on seeing it this weekend a little bit of advice. Pay attention to the Architect. Listen to every word because doing so just might help you comprehend the incomprehensible.
Anywaste, back to my pathetic life.
HoBiscuit is away for the next two weeks, because she’s attending a couple of weddings that I’m supposed to be at with her but cannot due to a very busy work schedule. She’s part of the bridal party of each wedding, so it’s really horrible of me to not go with her. I hope she understands that I’m staying behind so we can afford to pay for our wedding, but just in case she feels the urge to withhold sex upon her return, I’ve gone ahead and purchased her a gift. And since I was feeling so generous, I got one for myself too, of course.
What? I’m a Geek. So sue me.
Vive La Résistance!
Allergies can kill.
There I was, lying on my right side in bed this morning, when I felt the sudden urge to roll over and sleep on my back. Thinking nothing of it my brain, known to the rest of my body as the Big Boss, composed a message, the content of which can be summed up as ‘roll over, you lazy bastard’, and telegraphed it to my spine. My spine, the malleable, jellyfish-like wimp that it is, relayed the message to the various parts of my body that would need to expand, contract or flare in pain in order to roll me over. Receiving the message to commence rolling, all my body parts worked in unison to complete the task set before them and lo, I rolled over.
There was much rejoicing.
However, unknown to my brain, there was a treasonous malcontent in the ranks. Working in secret, this body part had concocted a plan with which it hoped to overthrow the reign of the totalitarian fascist known as the Big Boss. Its plan was a simple plan. In fact, the plan was so simple and so crazy that it just might have worked.
It would try to drown the Big Brain.
While I had slept that night, this body part had worked overtime to create and store as much liquid as it could possible hold. It found nooks and crannies within itself never before explored and filled them all with liquid. Biding its time, it worked tirelessly on its master plan waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
And that moment was now.
As my body came to rest on my back, my nose opened the floodgates of my sinuses and a veritable tsunami of mucus rolled down my nasal passages. Everything in its wake was washed along with it as the rolling sea of watery phlegm drained from my nose. My nose had executed its plan perfectly and had the Big Boss been located in my nasal passages or my sinuses then he would have no doubt been destroyed, leaving my nose the sole ruler of the Body of Geek. Unfortunately, my nose’s plan had one fatal flaw.
The nasal passages don’t lead up to the Big Boss. They lead down.
In fact, they lead to my throat which in turn leads to my stomach and/or lungs depending on which I needed to use. And since I was asleep and breathing at the time of the ill-fated attack, I found myself rudely awakened by my sudden inability to breathe due to the introduction of three milliliters of mucus into my lungs. And believe me, no matter what someone might tell you, being able to make mucus bubbles when you cough isn’t nearly amusing enough to make almost drowning in your own snot a worthwhile experience. Its treasonous activity discovered, my nose was chastised with a Kleenex flogging until it bled while the Big Boss looked on in smug satisfaction.
However, I now believe a splinter faction of the resistance lives on in my itchy, scratchy eyes.
Top 10 Reasons Why I’d Make A Great Gay Man
- I have memorized, and can actually perform, every dance move from Pat Benatar’s ‘Love Is A Battlefield’ video.
- As a young man I once did the penis-between-the-legs ‘what if’ thing and let me tell you, I looked H-O-T HOT!
- I sing show tunes and Erasure songs in the shower.
- I know when and how to correctly use the phrase, “Oh honey, you look fabulous!”
- I get the Sunday NY Times for the circulars and the fashion section.
- It takes me longer to get ready to go out to dinner than any woman I know.
- I actually enjoy going to outlet malls. Even the ones without a Best Buy, Software Etc. or Sony store.
- I can tell the difference between fuchsia and magenta colored throw pillows.
- As a teenager I owned and read every Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew book written. Yeah, even the crossover books.
- I love watching Trading Spaces and on TLC. I’m just waiting for the day Vern jumps Ty. Yeah, Baby! YEAH!