That’s why it is 86 degrees at 1:00 in the morning. Sneetch is about to evaporate, and I’m sweating more than Keith Bockhold during 3 on 3. I’d give anything to wear a diaper full of ice cubes right now. Where do you think you’re going, Darryl? Tar the roof, you silly Peruvian! Ugh.

Is this global warming? Is this the result of all the styrofoam cups and plates that are fun to watch burn in campfires? Granted, it’s neato how they sort of melt away, but still. I dunno if it’s worth this Hell audition.

Maybe when the Cubs win their division it’ll cool off, like in all the jokes. I hope so. Goodday, and good grief it’s freaking hot.

I don’t know what exactly to say, I don’t know exactly what there is to say about the following.

You simply must click on this link for what is either very disturbing or very very disturbing and very funny.

If Dr. Dre were asian and couldn’t rap.

I have been ruined by women’s deordorant. Could there be a more intoxicating aroma than Dove Extra Fresh? No, it is not possible. At least as far as women’s deordorant is concerned. This is almost as disturbing as my fascination with oversized ketchup packets and 1999’s Mumford. Around the time that movie came out I made a promise that I intend to keep unless I get smacked by a bus within the next two years.

Mumford, MO: I am coming. I am coming to your one-Huck’s town and I am leaving with its crown jewel. No, not your 30 year-old whore of a town seamtress; I am coming for your sign. There no way to tell how large you are…800, 450, 2000…just know this: your nameplate is mine, your jewel will be heisted, you will be ravaged in a way only women’s deordorant has been able to ravage me. You will not know when I am coming…you shall only know after I have departed and no one knows what your town is named. I have kissed destiny and her strawberry lip-gloss is your fate!

A reddish rose for every person that appreciates the movie afore-mentioned. Thanks to Satanwannabe for the link he sent me yesterday or whenever it was. Goodday to you and have a pleasant week sans Takey.

You know, sometimes I make stuff up just to amuse myself, and this works well because I’m easily amused. Yesterday I saw a kid get his shoelace caught in the peddles of his bike and he ended up coming to a complete halt before toppling over. In the same genre of comedy, last month Phillip Morris published a really informational report on smoking in the Czech Republic. Check out the findings of the report…

Smoking saves the Czech goverment money on:

health care
pensions
housing

(Cough) Do you want to know how Phillip Morris came to this conclusion? BECAUSE SMOKERS DIE BEFORE PEOPLE THAT DON’T SMOKE. The report spoke of how the Czech Republic reaps a financial benefit each time someone dies prematurely in that country. Isn’t that awesome? What a breath of fresh mountain air! Don’t you hope Andy Watts smokes 2 packs a day? Well, the tobacco industry giant apologized for their report, but not before recommending the distribution of Camel Wides for “maximum savings.” Enjoy your day, especially if you live in the Czech Republic. They save money every time you fall off your bike. And to answer IDQ…I’ve moved on from huffing paint. It’s much more satisfying to drink it like a shake. Try it, Toni.

from x-e:

Leo has swords…Raph has mystical sais, and Mikey’s got cool nunchucks. What ninja weapon did Don get? A stickball bat. Hey, you can call it a ‘bo’. But you can call it a Ford Tempo too…it’s still just a stick.

PLACE IN THIS WORLD, World - July 24, 2001 - Today leaders from all nations met together inside of a 1993 Michael W. Smith song in order to reach an understanding on key issues that effect the entire human race (not you, Takey). Because of the world’s estimated 5000 languages (thank you, Tower of Babel), the medium of communication between the leaders was nodding. Nodding up and down was to agree, nodding side to side was to disagree. A few world leaders, such as Belgian Energy Minister Olivier Deleuze, were intentionally given backwards directions just so everyone else could laugh when they “agreed” to such issues as fart-sniffing and spending time with family.

The first order of business was to discuss old business. During this time Dutch Environment Minister Jan Pronk reminisced on vital world agreements in the past…such as putting the nations of Turkey and Hungary next to each other. Since that decision no two countries have ever shown to be such a verbal example of figurative commensalism. On one hand you have Hungary, longing to be fed. Then, sitting practically across the backyard, you have Turkey, begging to satisfy a starving nation’s hunger! Much nodding took place during Mr./Mrs. Pronk’s rousing oratory.

Next came the orders of new business, among which the world leaders agreed to adjust the thermostat to 76 degrees during the day and to open the windows at night. A scuffle broke out when the discussion turned to sweatshops in Haiti and la Dominica Republica…a few diplomats from the U.S., The Gap, and Great Britain had their fingers bitten as they attempted to cover the mouths of 3/5 of the other World leaders. Order resumed when Roberto Benigni jumped on the table and misprounced the phrase, “I want to make love to you!” in 8 languages.

Lastly, the tracklist for the new Hootie and the Blowfish album was hammered out and the diplomats were let out for a short recess that consisted of pretending to like the fat kid (Uraguay) and four-square (darn those Indonesian overhand slammers). The summit will last until tomorrow, or until someone takes the “Go West Young Man” cassette out of the stereo.

Jesus Christ! I don’t know what my crack is laced with, but I can’t concentrate for shit today… hence, I will post to Dank, where a short attention span is a prerequisite.

Perhaps I can discover a few of the reasons behind my inability to concentrate today.

1) I’m supposed to be writing a course on pediatrics now. I fuckin’ hate kids. When small children get in my way in public places, I get a terrible urge to punt them like footballs or Wendy’s cups.

2) I’m High as fuck. The next office over from me is repainting, and the fumes are just obnoxious. I’ve already passed out and suffered forehead damage 3 times this afternoon.

3) I listened to Tori Amos’ cover of Eminem’s “97 Bonnie and Clyde.” The shit is scary. Sorry to admit it here on Dank where I know I’m kinda like a father figure to all of you, but I wet my fuckin’ pants.

4) My hot boss has been across from me in the conference all day looking sexy like she does (I know, I’m sick.. she’s like 37). At one point, something must not have been going well, cuz she stormed out, slammed the door, and yelled “what an asshole” as she left. I was amused.

See, is it any wonder I can’t write coursework about how not to mangle small children? On yeah… uh, Lou… what the fuck brand of paint are YOU huffing?

Two days ago the Crash Test Dummies played at a family street festival called “Edgewater Days” right outside of my apartment. approximately eight years after their one pseudo-popular song, they are playing free concerts at block parties. And yes, they played “Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm.” How do you request that song though? You can’t really yell out MM MM MM MMM at the top of your lungs. Not that anyone has ever requested a Crash Test song. The worst part, or best part, of the evening was the end of the concert when for some reason they thought we were cheering for an encore and they came back out onstage to play covers of Elvis’ “Return to Sender” and some Alice Cooper song. Man, it was sad. Where is Ace of Base when you need them?

Here are some lyrics from one of the “new” songs they played:

‘I’m a man who likes to turn a trick
I’m the guy who talks to his dick
I’m walkin a little funny and it ain’t by chance
I got some dried shit stuck in my pants

The most disturbing parts were his crotch grabbing and iggy-popish pelvic thrusts. Ugh.

I always thought bad bands all went to one state to die. Where Informer rules over the land and Right Said Fred handles the punch bowl. There must be a place like that. There is. I think it’s called Dakota.

Pre-Takey pizza count: 10
Post-Takey pizza count: 2

Well, there’s also another broken pizza in the freezer which was partially destroyed when Jamaal and he decided to bust out some TMNT moves.

As a side note, Takey was somehow tricked into eating 7 consecutive meals consisting of the beloved topic of this post.

Good Afternoon, this is Earthlink Net Services, how can I help you? Uh, yeah, I’d like to order a business dial-up account. Sir, would you like our Gold or Platinum service? What’s the difference? Our “Gold” service costs $21.95 a month, and the “Platinum” service costs more than that. Also, gold is more malleable than platinum and can be drawn into wire if necessary. Well this place is already stupid enough to pay you for a modem connection…heck, go with the platinum. We aren’t going to be drawing shit into wire. (Subdued laughter from caller) (Silence)

Okay sir, can I have your name please? Do you want the name on the credit card, the name of the company, my name, or the name of my supervisor? What is your name please sir? Well I’m not paying for it, why do you need my name? Name please. No. Sir, I will have to get my supervisor if this continues. Go get the bastard, you’re not getting my name. Ahem, excuse me, what seems to be the problem today? Well I’m trying to order a dial-up service from you, and she keeps asking me for my name, like she wants to bill me and not my company. Sir, I understand, but we need your name in order to have a contact for the account. You need a name? Okay…Bill Willems…Tay Nunes…Martin Strutherford…Delores Tillery…Ed Crutchkin…there’s your names, but they’ll sure as hell not mine. (Silence)

Sir, we need your name. If I give you a fake name and convince you it’s mine will that be alright? No. I bet MSN doesn’t need my name. They probably don’t, sir. My name is Peppermint Patty, give me a dial-up connection. I can’t do that, sir. What’s your name, then, Linus? (Muffled talking) Click.