Bread

Return Of Moldy Bastard

• by GeekMan • In Bread, Geek Life, Wedding •   2

It was supposed to be a nice day today.

I was sitting at my home office computer doing some work for a client when I caught a whiff of something foul. At first I thought that perhaps it was the off-white, yellowish-brown clump of fuzz I had just picked from my belly-button, but upon bringing it to my nose for a quick sniff I realized that it was actually odorless. Putting it away for later study into the special box labeled “Curious Things Removed From My Body”, I quickly scanned the room. At first I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but when I felt something warm and slimy touch my leg I nearly jumped out of my skin in surprise.
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I Need A Haircut

• by GeekMan • In Bread, Geek Life •   1

GeekMan is sitting in front of the TV in his underwear playing Unreal Championship. He’s not doing very well and is spending more time cursing the screen as he waits to re-spawn than he is actually playing. Bread enters the room.

“Hey, Bub.”
“Aaaargh!”
“Man, you suck.”
“Sigh. What do you want Bread?”
“Nothing really. I was just wondering if you’re feeling depressed or something?”
“Uh, no. No more than usual, why?”
“Well, me and the girls are a little worried about you. You ain’t been yourself lately.”
“What do you mean, exactly?”
“Well, we’ve all noticed that you’ve been taking longer and longer showers, but you haven’t shaved in over a week.”
“Listen, I’ve told you a thousand times to knock before coming in! And I was… uh, washing my privates, nothing else. I just like to be really, really thorough, is all.”
“Riiiiight. ‘Washing’ your privates. And I guess all that moaning was your reenactment of the ‘Herbal Essence’ commercials, huh?”
“…”
*snicker*
“I really hate you sometimes.”
“Well, forget the showers for now. What about the lack of shaving?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I just haven’t felt like shaving lately. I wanted to see what I would look like with a beard.”
“So you want to look like a Neanderthal with the plague?”
“It’s not that bad!”
“Listen to me, you putz. It looks like the roadkill remains of a black badger with Atopic Dermatitis has been stapled to your face.”
“Really?”
“Really, really. And your hair is even worse. When’s the last time you had a haircut?”
“Uh… I don’t know. Maybe last year?”
“And it hasn’t occurred to you that maybe, just maybe you should get it cut? Unless, of course, you enjoy scaring small children at the mall or being mistaken for a dark-haired Yahoo Serious?”
“Egad! I look like a two-bit, Aussie, washed-up-before-he-ever-got-started actor?”
“Not really, no.”
“Whew! You had me scared for a minute there.”
“You remember what Harrison Ford looked like in ‘Raiders of the Lost Ark’?”
“I look like Indiana Jones?”
“No. You make Yahoo look like Indiana Jones.”
“Oh. My. God.”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“So, you’re saying I need a haircut?”
“And a shave. Don’t forget that.”
“OK. Damn, I didn’t think it was that bad. I guess I should go to the barbershop then.”
“Damn straight, you should.”
“Right. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Wow, worse than Yahoo. Man, I’m ugly…”

[GeekMan leaves room]

“Hey, Sugah?”
“Yeah, Miss Ex-Boxx?”
“That was real nice of you. I never would have guessed you would care enough about GeekMan to look out for his personal appearance.”
“Are you frickin kidding me? I just wanted to be able to play Unreal Championship. That schmuck’s been playing it for three days straight and I haven’t even touched the damn game yet. At this rate he might actually stand a chance against me when we play against each other on Saturday!”
“Ah.”
“Damn right, ‘Ah’.”
“Bread, you’re one rotten loaf. You know that?”
“You know it, toots. Even got ‘NASTY’ tattooed on my ass. Wanna see?”
“No.”
“Then quit your yappin and load up my ‘Geek Killa’ character so’s I can frag me some virtual losers. I got a reputation to protect!”

No Ordinary Wednesday

• by GeekMan • In Bread, Breaking News, Experiments, Geek Life, HoBiscuit, Rants •   11

I’m not dead, yet.

It has come to my attention, through various IM chats, email with my virtual friends, and the tumbling tumbleweeds rolling through my server logs, that I’m not famous. No, no, don’t look so shocked. I know it might come as a surprise to some of you, but trust me when I tell you that it’s true nonetheless.

I know, I know. You could have knocked me over with a feather.

Anywaste, after talking it over with some people this morning, and thinking about it for a few hours this afternoon, I have finally come to understand what it would take for me to become a bigwig blog-type person. So, without further ado, here’s a list of what I need to do;

  • Write shorter entries
  • Post pictures of naked Boobies
  • Write more angry diatribes about unimportant minutia
  • Upload pictures of Breasts
  • Open up and tell people more about me
  • Show some Cleavage
  • Let Bread speak more often
  • Show really big Knockers in tight-fitting, wet t-shirts
  • Accept that I will not be funny all the time
  • Take pictures of small, fist-sized Boobs with erect, pencil-eraser-sized nipples and post them
  • Turn gay, or at least bi, and write about my sordid sex life
  • Boobies, Boobies, Boobies, Boobies!

Now, while I don’t have Boobies to take pictures of, or a sordid sex life to talk about, I think I might manage the other things on the list. Like making shorter entries, letting myself get angry and accepting the fact that I won’t always be funny. Like the time I peed in my friend’s pool and told everyone that the areas of warm water were due to global warming.

Sure, it’s funny now.

So, beginning tomorrow you will see a slowly evolving GeekMan website here. I’ll write shorter entries, try to reveal a little more about myself, and even do some ranting, bitching and moaning via Bread. Not everything I write will be explicitly for laughs anymore, but it will all be at least tongue-in-cheek. Things I won’t do are curse, discuss work (due to NDAs), or turn gay. Not even bi. HoBiscuit would not be amused. However, I will see what I can do about that Boobie thing.

Because, you know, they’re Boobies.

Doing It For Love

• by GeekMan • In Bread, Geek Life, HoBiscuit, Moving •   3

“So, how’s it feel?”
“How’s what feel, Bread?”
“Don’t give me that innocent crap, GeekMan. You and HoBiscuit haven’t had it in weeks. I want to know what it’s like to go without for so long.”
“None of your frickin business, you little bastard.”
“Oh, come on! Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Go away.”

I turned away from the smug look on his face and quickly dove into another cardboard box labeled ‘Amazingly Heavy Books’ and began emptying its contents into the bookshelves. Anyone who tells you that packing up your life into cardboard boxes and moving to a new location is hard is lying or stupid. Moving isn’t the hard part. The hard part is unpacking all your stuff and wondering why you ever bothered to pack it in the first place.

“I’ll bet you miss it.”
“Shut up.”
“I’ll bet you lay awake at night dreaming about it.”
“Shut up.”
“Don’t you think she misses it, too? Maybe she lays awake at night right next to you, dreaming about it just like you do.”
“Shut up.”
“I’ll bet she wants it right now…”
“SHUT UP!”

I glared at him as he looked down at me from the top of the bookcase, safely out of reach. One day I swore I’d figure out how something with no hands or feet was able to climb a seven foot bookcase, but right then all I wanted to do was climb up there and throttle him.

“Ooooo. Is someone a little cranky?”
“I swear Bread, if you don’t shut up I’m going to toast you.”
“Look at me, I’m shaking.”
“You little…”
“Spare me, wimp. You know you can’t actually catch me. I’m like the frickin Gingerbread Man. Anyway, if you just caved in and let HoBiscuit have it like you know she wants it, you wouldn’t be so cranky.”
“I am not cranky. I’m just a little frustrated about unpacking, is all.”
“You say toMAYto, I say toMAHto…”
“Shut up.”

Miraculously, he did. For a few moments, there was no sound other than that of books being laboriously alphabetized and put onto shelves, punctuated by an occasional sneeze.

“Why won’t you do it?”
“Don’t bother me.”
“Hey, come on numbnuts, I’m serious. Why won’t you just do it? Has HoBiscuit been bad or something? Are you punishing her?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. This wouldn’t even be a good punishment, since I miss it just as much as she does. You know, this isn’t easy for either of us.”
“Then why don’t you just cave in and do it already?”
“If you must know, it’s because I’m not ready yet. We’ve just moved in together, in a new home in a new area, and I just want everything to be perfect before we take such a big step.”
“That’s crazy talk! Things won’t ever be ‘perfect’! All she wants is some of that old magic back, some of the ‘wow’ and ‘pizzazz’. That’s all. Can’t you just give in already and give it to her?”

I knew he was right. That was all she wanted. And it would be really great to finally do it and make her happy again. She had been a little bit cranky the last few days and truth be told, I was finding it harder and harder to resist when she would…

“Wait a second! Since when have you ever cared if HoBiscuit or I suffered? Usually, you revel in our pain and try your damnedest to make our suffering greater. What the hell’s going on here?”
“Dammit!”
“Hah! I knew it! What are you up to, Bread? What diabolical scheme have you got up your proverbial sleeve?”

He looked down at me in consternation as I laughed and pointed at him in glee. I had finally caught on to one of his little schemes before it exploded in my face and I planned on enjoying my moment in the sun to the utmost. He wouldn’t catch me off-guard the way he had when he offered to put ice in my drink. I still shuddered at the mental picture of those cockroaches running around inside the ice cubes as they floated in my drink. To this day I still can’t figure out how Bread managed to keep the roaches alive in their frozen prisons.

“So? What’s the scam this time, loser?”
“Sigh. If you must know Geek, there is no scam.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true. No scam.”
“Then why do you care that Hobiscuit and I haven’t had it in so long?”
“I don’t, Lamebrain. Did you ever stop and think that maybe, just maybe, you’re not the only one who’s suffering?”

Well, I’ll be a llama’s uncle.

“Since when have you ever..?”
“All the time, moron. Whenever you and HoBiscuit were doing it, I did it too.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. And now I miss it, too. It’s all I can think about. Day and night, night and day. I miss it. I really need it and I need it bad.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Miss Ex-Boxx feels the same way I do. In fact, she asked me to talk with you about it. So did HoBiscuit.”
“They did? Really?”
“Really. The truth is that we need it so bad that I’ve been sent to ask you, no, to beg you to please do it. Do it for you, for HoBiscuit, do it for Miss Ex-Boxx, but most of all, do it for me. Please.”

I didn’t believe it.

“I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it, bub. This is the first and last time you’ll ever hear me ask for something so don’t get used to it, ok? The girls want it so much they’re practically foaming at the mouth to get it so as men, our job is clear. And anywaste, we both want it too, so why wait?”
“Wow. I had no idea you guys all felt this way.”
“We do.”
“Right. So, I guess I’ll just have to do it, then.”
“You will? Really?”
“Really, really.”
“Thank god.”
“And then, when I’m done, we can all do it together.”
“Well? What the heck are you waiting for?”
“Right.”

I dialed the number.

“Hello? Hi. I’d like to have digital cable installed in my new apartment please…”

He’s Baaaaack!

• by GeekMan • In Bread •   4

I knew there would be repercussions.

It’s not as if I didn’t expect it. I knew when I did what I did that I would get in trouble for it. It was just a matter of time before the proverbial poo hit the metaphorical fan.

I just didn’t expect it so soon.

“Bub, you’re in big trouble.”

Now, before I tell you the next part I feel that I should take a moment to defend myself. See, I had just gotten out of the shower and was going through my dresser drawers looking for clothes. It was right after I put on my underwear when he jumped out from my sock drawer, wearing a blood-red hockey mask and holding a rolled up magazine like a knife. Keeping that image in mind, it’s perfectly understandable, and natural, for me to react the way I did. There’s nothing wrong with what happened next, and I’m sure most of you would have reacted the same way if you found yourself face to face with a very angry piece of bread wielding a paper knife.

That’s right. I screeched like a ring-tailed lemur in heat, and pooed in my tighty-whities.
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Please Forgive Me

• by GeekMan • In Bread •   3

I apologize in advance for any emotional damage the following announcement will cause my readership.

After months of derisive insults and weeks of threats to my physical health and emotional well being, I finally caved in and granted his request. I’m ashamed to reveal this unnatural travesty to the world at large, but if I don’t he’s going to hound me until I die of a bleeding, cancerous ulcer. In light of that fact I have no choice, so here goes nothing. Ladies and gentlemen of the Internet, lock your doors and hide the butter because evil incarnate is coming to dinner.

Bread is on the web. May god have mercy on us all.

The Return Of Bread

• by GeekMan • In Bread •   8

“Hey Bub, how ya doin?”

I almost dropped my glazed, chocolate donut in surprise at the now familiar voice. Luckily, I managed to stop the donut from sliding to the floor by sacrificing my right hand to the boiling hot water splashing over the lip of my Mighty Geek mug. Some things are worth third-degree burns and months of rehab.

“OW! Dammit Bread, don’t scare me like that!”

“Sorry schmuck, I didn’t know you wuz so jumpy. Did it hurt?”

“Hurt? You smug little… Maybe I should dunk you in this hot cocoa and watch that grin melt off your face.”

“Hey now, bub. No need for threats, I said I was sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

I got a paper towel and cleaned myself off. I was a little annoyed by Bread’s cavalier attitude towards my pain, so I refused to look at him until I was positive he knew I was angry. I mean, he’d been slithering all over the house lately not even bothering to hide his penchant for Butter-Porn, and I was getting tired of all the unsolicited spam-mail I was getting from hotbutter.com. Just as I suspected though, Bread completely ignored my air of disapproval and continued talking as if nothing was wrong.

“So, wassup wit your site?”

“Go away, Bread. You’re not real and I don’t have to listen to you or answer your stupid questions.”

“Yes you do. I’m your inner monologue and the voice of your visitors, so it’s my job to hound you until you give the people what they want.”

“Your thoughts on what people want have no basis in reality, so shut up and leave me alone.”

“Hey, I still think a list of twenty things to do with apricot jam would really reel them in. And just because you have a problem with hot butter porn…”

“You’re crazy.”

“I think the word you meant was ‘brilliant’.”

“I’m not listening to you anymore so go away.”

I sat down at the table and began eating my scrumptious Entenmann’s chocolate donut. I should have known Bread wouldn’t leave me alone, but I guess I thought he would at least let me eat in peace before he bothered me again. I should have known better.

“Are you retarded?”

“Mmmfff? Glormph!!!”

Bread had timed the question perfectly and my hot chocolate burned my throat like lava as I mistakenly tried to answer and swallow at the same time. The skin on the roof of my mouth came off in stringy clumps of boiled flesh and my tongue swelled up to twice its normal size. The pain was intense and my eyes watered in sympathy. Bread just laughed and laughed and laughed. He could be a real jerk sometimes.

“You jerk! That really hurt.”

“Cry me a river, wuss. Just answer the question, are you retarded?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’m not.”

“Are you stupid, or metally impaired?”

“No.”

“Did your momma drop ya when you wuz a kid?

“Don’t you talk about my momma.”

“Or what, jackass? What?”

“Or I’ll…”

“You’ll what, tough guy? Cry? You gonna cry like a little girl? Go ahead, cry like a baby. Cry, you pussy. Cry.”

I just stared at him, hoping that my glare would be so hot as to toast his body and kill him. He just smiled at me, knowing I couldn’t touch him. We both ignored the excess moister in my eyes.

*mumble*

“What?”

“Nothing. Why do want to know if I’m stupid? Which I’m not, by the way.”

“Because you’re not funny anymore. You’ve lost it, whatever ‘it’ was, and your writing lately has been, how should I say this politely, pathetically un-funny.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what the hell was that last post about?”

“It was a humorous look at how my girlfriend managed to move into my apartment without ever actually moving in. I thought it was really funny.”

“Funny? It was about as funny as a poke in the eye with a branding iron. You just confused the hell outta me and made me want to kick your skinny, hairy ass for ever writing such crap. Next time stick to the stuff you know people want, like stories about how stupid you are.”

“Hey! That’s enough out of you, you slimey, little bastard. I thought it was funny and I bet other people did too.”

“The only person who thinks you’re funny is HoBiscuit and even she needed to call and get clarification about that post. Face it, you’re over the hill, past your prime and as funny as a Just Shoot Me marathon. You might as well throw in the towel, pack your bags and become a tabloid horoscope writer in Des Moines.”

I couldn’t believe how insulting he was being. Here I was, the guy who had given him life on my web site, and all he could do was insult me. My patience with him was wearing thin and my hot cocoa was getting cold. When he started laughing at me I got angry, but the horoscope writer comment was the last straw.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m putting you where you belong.”

“But that’s not where I belong, that’s the toaster.”

“That’s right. Burn, you little prick.”

“No!!! You bastard! I’ll be back, moron! You’ll never be free of me! I’ll get you and your little site too! I’m toasting… I’m toasting… Ayeeeeee!!!“

I set the toaster on high and left him inside. I ignored his screams and sat down at the table to enjoy my cocoa and donut. After ten minutes the screaming stopped and the smell of toast filled the air.

Now, anyone else have a complaint?

It’s Like Buttah

• by GeekMan • In Bread •   10

“Psssst. Hey buddy, come here I want to talk to you.”

“Who, me?” I said as I looked around my kitchen in alarm.

“Yes you, moron. Who else? There are a few things I think we need to discuss, pronto.”

The voice seemed to be coming from the vicinity of my kitchen counter. Actually, I could swear that my sandwich bread was talking to me.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little confused. Did you just say something?”

“Yeah, I did. What’s the problem?”

“No problem really, it’s just I’m not used to being addressed by a moldy loaf of bread in a plastic bag.”

“Well get used to it, bub. Letting your food sit on your shelves and in your fridge for as long as you have, it was only a matter of time before one of us became self aware.”

“Oh come on now, you haven’t been here that long. I mean, it’s only been what, a week?”

“Try six. At week four I became mobile and just last week I grew an eye. By the way, you might want to think about closing the bathroom door in the morning. You’re not to high on the good-looks scale when you’re sitting on the toilet and I think I’m growing a nose.”

“Hey, this is my apartment and I don’t need a moldy piece of bread telling me what I can and can’t do in my own home. In fact…wait a minute. I can’t believe I’m arguing with a piece of bread.”

I resisted the urge to kick this Wonder Bread reject’s ass and instead grabbed a nearby fork and stabbed myself in the forearm in the hopes of waking myself up from what was obviously some drug induced nightmare. Unfortunately, all I managed to do was draw some blood and make Bread giggle like a schoolgirl.

“Ow!”

“Damn, I can’t believe you’re that stupid. Did it hurt?”

“Hell yeah, that hurt. You want me to stab you with a fork and see how much you like it?”

“Hey, don’t get pissed off at me, bub. I’m not the one who stabbed you with a fork remember? You did that all by yourself.”

“Whatever. You wanted to discuss something?”

I figured that as long as I was stuck in this daydream, hallucination or a fever-dream brought on by bad Mexican food, I might as well listen. Who knows, maybe Salma Hayek or Jessica Alba would make an appearance later on and make stabbing myself in the arm with a fork worthwhile. With my luck though, I’d wind up with Cheech Marin in a dress.

“You’re darn tooting I want to discuss something. Do you realize you haven’t updated your web site in a week? People crave content man, and this is an election week. It’s no time to slack off.”

“How the hell does a moldy piece of crap like you know about my web site?”

“I use the computer while you’re sleeping. By the way, I think I may have accidentally signed you up to a few bread-porn mailing lists. If you start getting mail from hotbutter.com for Wundrrbun don’t delete it. It’s for me.”

“Well, I have been a little busy working you know. And I did mention in my last post that my computer is modem-less right now which tends to make it a little difficult to update a web site. And anyway, I write to keep myself entertained, not to cater to some faceless and anonymous group of people I’ve never met and will most likely never meet.”

“Oh yeah? Then why do you check your site’s logs every friggen day, huh?”

“I’m uh, just checking to make sure I don’t exceed my bandwidth allotment. Yeah, that’s it. Checking bandwidth.”

Bread’s moldy eyeball just stared at me in disbelief.

“Your pathetic, do you know that?”

“OK, you win. I’ll update on Sunday. Are you happy now?”

“Hey buddy, I’m just trying to help you out. Want to see that visitor count go up? Want to win the Bloggie for Best Article or Essay about Web Logs? Then you better give your visitors what they want.”

“And just what do my visitors want?”

“After a thoroughly scientific and unbiased poll of your readership I’ve found that what your visitors most want is pictures of hot, slightly melted butter in sexy poses and lingerie.”

Bread was practically drooling as he said this. His one eye burning with desire as he willed me to believe that my visitors wanted to see Land O’ Lakes slathered on a Victoria’s Secret bra.

“All right that’s it. I’ve had just about enough of you and your shenanigans. I think it’s high time that a famous, naked, sexy woman shows up who will do my bidding for the rest of this dream sequence. With big, perky boobies.”

“Yeah, right. Good luck on that one, bub.”

“Look, it’s not too much to ask OK? I put up with you and your butter fetish, I stabbed myself with a fork and I’ve agreed to update my site. All I ask in return is three minutes with an imaginary supermodel or movie star. Or Janet Jackson. Now that’s a mighty fine woman, and who could resist that alluring smile?”

“Of all the idiots on the planet I have to get stuck with their king. Calgon, take me away.”