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.
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?
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?
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.
This is the story I promised everyone.
It took me a little over ten hours to write it, so I really hope it doesn’t suck as much as I think it does. It was much, much harder than I thought it would be and I really want to thank everyone who sent in an entry. If I didn’t use your entry, please don’t be angry with me. It’s not because your sentence wasn’t good, it’s just that I couldn’t figure out how to make it work.
Damn, this was REALLY hard.
Since it’s much longer than I thought it would be (10 pages as a Word doc) I’ve decided to use the extended entry format of MT to post it. Click the link at the bottom of this post to open it up to read, and please remember to leave me a comment about my lack of writing skilz.
What can I say; I’m a glutton for punishment.
Also, I’ll be gone for the next week on another job so I won’t be posting anything until Monday, May 12. I Hope everyone has a wonderful time while I’m away.
Play nice and remember to clean up after yourselves.
Enjoy.
Continue reading
The following conversation took place at 4am a few weeks ago. The entire conversation lasted less than one minute.
HoBiscuit: “Wake up, GeekMan!”
GeekMan: “What?! What?! Is the house on fire? Quick, grab the left front speaker of the VEHTS and I’ll grab the right!”
[holding back tears]
HoBiscuit: “How could you just leave me there? You let me drown! And you ran off with… with… her!”GeekMan: “I what?”
HoBiscuit: “You know what you did!”
GeekMan: “I know I was sleeping…”
HoBiscuit: “How could you sleep after letting me die? You don’t really love me!”
GeekMan: “But honey, you’re not dead.”
HoBiscuit: “Don’t patronize me! You sound just like the captain.”
GeekMan: “Captain?”
HoBiscuit: “Of the ship! The one who performed the ceremony.”
GeekMan: “What ceremony?”
HoBiscuit: “It doesn’t matter now, I’m dead and you’re with the waitress with the big, fake boobies!”
[rubbing temples]
GeekMan: “Wait, I don’t understand. What happened?”HoBiscuit: “You’re so stupid. I hope you’re happy.”
[HoBiscuit falls back to her pillow and is immediately asleep]GeekMan: “Honey? Sweetie? What the hell was that all about?”
[HoBiscuit rolls over, snuggles up close and gives GeekMan a kiss on the cheek]
HoBiscuit: “I love you, too. Goodnight.”GeekMan: “Holy crap, I’m marrying a psycho.”
GeekMan spends the next hour praying to every deity he’s ever heard of that HoBiscuit will not remember anything about her dream when she wakes up. He also mentally calculates how far away he could get if he should pawn the engagement ring and make a run for it. Sighing in resignation to his fate, he concludes that however far he gets, it will never be far enough. That night GeekMan dreams of being chased around a cruise ship by big, fake boobies with long, sharp, pointy teeth.
And HoBiscuit just laughs at him as she makes out with Captain Stubing.
Here’s your chance to get some Geeky Linky-Love.
I’m going to try a little experiment and you’re going to help. I want you to write a wacky, silly, strange or otherwise nonsensical sentence and then email it to me. I’ll use the top ten or twenty sentences I receive in a story, depending of course on the amount of entries I receive. I’ll post the story here next Friday and I’ll even link your sentence back to your website so everyone will know just how clever, witty and funny you really are.
Before you fire up your favorite word processor, here’s some simple ground rules.
The sentence you send should be in English and be no more than twenty words long, although those words can be of any length. The sentence can be about anything at all, but please no curse words. Any entries containing curse words will not be used and yes, that means you too, mom. You may send as many entries as you wish, but each entry must be in a separate email. Only one entry per website will be used in the final story. GeekMan reserves the right to not use your entry no matter how clever you might think it is. Even if it does involve llamas. Once submitted, all entries become the property of The Mighty Geek. All entries must be received by 11pm EST, Wednesday April 30, 2003.
Email your entries to: geekman at the mighty geek d0t c0m
That’s it. There’s no prize money or gifts being offered here, just the chance to see your words used in a weird and (hopefully) funny way. Well, that and perhaps the gift of a few meager click-throughs from the readership here at The Might Geek. Now dream up a few zany words and string them together so I can write something funny for you next week.
And don’t forget to spell check!
GeekMan enters a Wendi MacKing fast food restaurant.
Terminally Perky Cashier: “Hello and welcome to Wendi MacKing’s! May I take your order?”
Confident GeekMan: “Sure. This order is to go. I’d like a medium number three value meal, and for my drink I’ll have an iced tea, please.”
Concentrating Perky Cashier: “Would you like fries with that order?”
Surprised GeekMan: “I thought a value meal came with fries?”
Clueless Perky Cashier: “They do.”
Confused GeekMan: “Uh, I ordered a value meal… so…”
Chastising Perky Cashier: “Sir, you ordered a hamburger and a coke. If you wanted a value meal you should have ordered a value meal.”
GeekMan and stranger standing behind him on line share an amused, yet questioning look.
Forgiving GeekMan: “OK. How about we just change that order to what I thought I had asked for before?”
Frustrated Perky Cashier: “Fine.”
Saintly GeekMan: “I’d like a medium number three value meal, and for my drink I’ll have an iced tea. Please.”
Special Ed. Perky Cashier: “Would you like a Coke with your value meal?”
Flabbergasted GeekMan: “I thought I asked for an iced tea?”
Angry Perky Cashier: “Don’t yell at me, sir.”
Amazed GeekMan: “I didn’t yell.”
Bitchy Perky Cashier: “Sir, if you don’t calm down and give me your order, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
Martyr GeekMan: “OK. Fine. I’m not yelling. I would just like to have my number three value meal and my iced tea to go so I can get back to work. Please.”
Asking For It Perky Cashier: “And is this order to stay or to go?”
Giving It GeekMan: “You know, I think I just figured out the problem here. I think that you can’t understand what I’m saying because the flow of blood to your head has been cut off by your far-too-tightly-tied training bra in your futile effort to make those mosquito bites you call breasts more enticing to the acne-infested loser you call the ‘manager’ of this fine establishment and whom you’ve been giving hand jobs to in the managers office in the hopes of getting a raise, right? Right?”
Stranger behind GeekMan laughs out loud and moves to another line.
Wide-Eyed & Shocked Perky Cashier: “…”
Pissed-Off GeekMan: “Where’s my order?”
Frightened Perky Cashier: “Here’syourmediumnumberthreevaluemealsir. Andyouricedteatogosir. Thankyouandhaveaniceday!”
Smug & Happy GeekMan: “Damn right.”
GeekMan leaves Wendi MacKings to thunderous applause.
Hukt on Foniks iz thuh best!
Thanks too thuh gud peepuhl at Hukt on Foniks, I hav lernd to ryt reel well. After only three weeks, I haf improovd my ryting skilz so muhch that I no longer need to yooz Mycrowsoft Wordz spel cheker! I am so prowd uff myself fowr lerning how to ryt that I haf desided to tehl thuh world abowt it ryt heer on my vehrri own web syte. And, for thuh first tym evah, I’m not going to yooz thuh spel cheker befoor I pohst!
Ha! I bet yoo did naht even notiss thuh diffurrenss!
I wood lyk to giff uh big showt owt to awl thuh peepuhl who haff mayd this day posseebuhl for me. Brehd, for giffing me thuh kik in my ass that I needed to fynuhllee admit my prahblem and ehnroll in thuh Hukt on Foniks prohgrahm. Miz Ex-Bahks, for teeching me that in lyf there iz no reset buhttuhn. And, of coors, the luhvlee and beyootihfull HoBizkit. She wuhz my inspuhrayshun threwowt this hohl ordeal. She wuz my lyt, my guyding stahr and my rok. Withowt her by my syd I wood nehver haff mayd it throo thuh prohgrahm too becuhm thuh wonderfuhl ryter that I am tooday.
HoBizkit, I luhv yoo.
So, I hohp my cuhming forward will serff az an exahmpuhl too all uff yoo who may haff thuh saym prahblem I did. Doo naht bee skayrd too stahnd uhp and admit that yoo haff a prahblem. It iz nehver too layt too lern thuh ryt way too ryt. Yoo ahr nehver too ohld too lern how to spel! And won day, three weeks after yoo stahrt thuh prohgrahm, yoo too will bee prowd too say;
“Hukt on Foniks wurkt for ME!“