tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-351716832024-03-19T05:46:03.241-07:00Random RuminationsJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-51030026931593342362014-11-25T04:08:00.002-08:002014-11-25T04:08:39.397-08:00THE FEAR OF EVERYTHING<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A column I do for the local paper oHeraldo.<br />
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Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-59636473314510799902012-09-13T21:56:00.001-07:002012-09-13T22:03:09.798-07:00INVENTIONS WE CAN’T WAIT TO SEE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> </span></b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Technology is moving at a pace faster than you can
get your pants off in front of a naked woman. Things only imaginable in movies
are already available to the public. Phones that at like your personal
assistant. Porn at a click of a button.Dead celebrities coming back to perform
as holograms. There’s nothing you can rule out as incredulous anymore. That’s
why we’ve come up with our list of inventions that we can’t wait to see out
there. And while they might seem bizarre, remember, this is the 21<sup>st</sup>
century and impossible has been rendered obsolete. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">THE
DREAM SEQUENCER</span></b></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Another
one on the Maxim wish list. Here’s how it’s supposed to work. You feed in
what you would like your dreams to involve, broadly. While you drift into REM
sleep, the sequencer takes over. In Maxim scientific terminology, the Dream
Sequencer would then control the neurons effecting the neurotransmitter signals
to the brain as well as other stuff that we’re too lazy to read off wiki. End
result – we can dream all the sex stuff we want, on demand! It’s your
brain… anything goes. And if you’re still getting shot down by the office
hottie in your own head, there’s no way we can help you. You agreed to the
terms and conditions. No refunds.</span></span></div>
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TELEPORTER</b></span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Nobody’s
figured it out as yet, but you never know. While most people would waste one
end of the teleporting machine by placing it at the work place, we think that’s
a humungous waste of this precious gift. Why the hell would you want to get to
work faster? We say place one end next to your bed. The other next to the
fridge. Roll out, grab a beer, roll back in in. As long as you don’t merge with
the beer on reverse teleportation, like Jeff Goldblum in The Fly. Although, on
second thought, a guy-beer hybrid would be another cool idea. We should really
patent this stuff before somebody else does.</span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">THE TV
GRABITECH</span></b></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">If you
thought taping your favourite shows or forwarding through commercials was
brilliant, the TV Grabitech will blow your mind. We were leaning towards
the name ‘TV Grabber’, but Grabitech makes it sound like there’s some uber-cool
technology involved. See something you like on TV – just grab it from the
screen! Like what Nigella Lawson is cooking, grab a bite. Heck, you can grab
Nigella if you like. Move the desk in front of ArnabGoswami to see if he’s
really wearing pants behind there. Or simply flick Celine Dion’s forehead just
to piss the shit outta her. Screw 3D. This is interactive TV at it’s best.</span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">THE
WOMAN INTERPRETER</span></b></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Like
ear-buds, they fit into your ears. And voila, it’s like we’re speaking the same
language. <b> </b>We’ll finally be able to understand what they’re saying.
Especially when they say things like “Yes”, “No”, or “You don’t hang out with
my friends enough.” Which, strangely enough, means, “I think we should get
married.” The next time she sends you out to bring something from the store,
you will come back with exactly what she wanted! Through the simple process of
hearing, interpreting and executing. You can now say goodbye to ambiguity
thanks to the Woman Interpreter. </span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><b><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">PORKUN</span></b></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">It’s
only a matter of time till it happens. They already have a liger. But eating a
mix of a lion and a tiger might get the PETA boys a little pissed off. So
here’s the plan. Pork and mutton – porkun. And we’re pretty sure our
geneticists can figure it out. Just get the pig and the sheep in the same room,
barn, whatever. A few candles around. Some soft Barry White in the background.
A little farm nookie and what do we get? The best of both meats all wrapped up
in one freak of nature. Mmmmm… Kentuky Fried Porkun. Remember, you heard it
here first.</span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">THE
INVISIBILITY CLOAK</span></b></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"> </span></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">If you’re thinking of sneaking into the girls changing room, well… nyeh.
Too clichéd. We’re thinking of turning it up a notch. We’re real men. We could
get all the naked girls we want. But how about free gas at the pump,
considering petrol costs as much as rocket fuel now. Or even when your
girlfriend’s husband comes home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No more
roughing it out in the closet or risking the 20ft jump from the window with a
boner. Just put on the invisibility cloak and waltz out after helping yourself
to some of his beer. </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">THE
DECISIONATOR</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">It’s your personal
robot that comes back from the future to stop you from doing questionable
things in the present. He could be just like the Terminator but without the Austrian
accent. So you’re in a committed relationship, yet find yourself in a naked
situation with another girl. The Decisionater comes back just in time and
terminates your wife / girlfriend to make what you’re doing absolutely moral.
Of course he could just pull you out of the compromising situation but that
depends on what settings the Decisionator is on. Suppose you’re out with the
gang and probably had too much to drink. Your favourite song comes up and you
decide that you’re going to bust out the moves. The Decisionator would break
your legs leaving you with your dignity. He’s like the best friend who you
never have to pick up the tab for. </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">THE
TORRENT FRIDGE</span></b></span><span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;"></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Sometimes
you can buy the movie for free. And some people, we don’t know who these fiends
are, download them for free through torrents. The Torrent fridge is the same
thing, but with food. You want a rack of spare ribs? Do a search, and download
one from the best source. Nobody likes them bootleg dishes. Depending on your
Ingredient Service Provider, download speeds may vary. All you need to do is
queue up food before you head to work. Come back to your fridge and tadaa! And
be a good soul and leave your fridge on for others to download from. Preferably
stocked with something that doesn’t have fuzzy stuff growing out of it and it’s
own ecosystem. </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">THE
BARRY WHITENER</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Women
love men who can sing. A great voice can pick up the slack of your looks. But
not all of us have a voice that can melt a heart and undress a woman. That’s
where the Barry Whitener comes in. It’s a small box that hangs around your neck
with several options at your disposal. Need to have her swooning, hit the switch
on to Barry White and let the sexual healing commence. And the best part is you
can change the voice to your preference. Need to sound local? Turn it to Sonu
Nigam. A voice that’s high on mushrooms? Set it to Anu Malik. Courting a young
lesbian? Now you can sound like a teenage girl with the Bieber setting. With
120 voices available, you will be spoilt for choice. </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">THE
PROXY THINNER</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">This
nifty invention will be the end to our biggest nemesis. Exercise. It’s an
armour of sorts that lets you exercise by proxy. Available in pairs, you and a
willing buddy need to suit up simultaneously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Next, while your pal runs around the block, building muscle and burning
fat, you reap all the benefits. Off set the bacon you’re devouring by sending
your best friend to the gym. What are friends for if they can’t gift you a sick
pack and a few triceps while you help yourself to a burger? Choose your friends
wisely just in case they ask for the favour to be returned. Remember, a friend
with a treadmill is a friend indeed. </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">SIRIBRO</span></b></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bookmark: _GoBack;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">It’s
an app on your phone that’s your own personal bro. Unlike apple’s Siri, this
one will actually be able to understand what you’re saying and even perform
voice commands! Crazy huh? But more importantly it will perform all the
functions that a bro should. Sending a drunk text? SiriBro will filter it or
defer sending it till the following morning. Wearing questionable clothes, the
app will intervene with“ Bro, leave the bell bottoms back in the 70s”. Hitting
on a friend’s girl? SiriBro, will taze the head that you’re thinking with.
Because that’s what bros do. Look out for other bros.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 12.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: -webkit-xxx-large; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">PUBLISHED IN MAXIM, August 2012, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.</span></span></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com63tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-48808454645684036852011-11-08T20:18:00.000-08:002011-11-08T20:20:54.485-08:00ANIMAL LOST<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxtWCLQ7Cpadtc8jc6-YrfJxO-dSObhr4bjfXDEIyN7JPjhh_JhO3ro2l-27pWFbp6yNJTdHwqxCJzuQrIddxZLz-e9V8B9Gf7gc8mvxq1KKm-MXMgZ1bvO1Xx6f3gncyJdeboBg/s1600/LOST.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxtWCLQ7Cpadtc8jc6-YrfJxO-dSObhr4bjfXDEIyN7JPjhh_JhO3ro2l-27pWFbp6yNJTdHwqxCJzuQrIddxZLz-e9V8B9Gf7gc8mvxq1KKm-MXMgZ1bvO1Xx6f3gncyJdeboBg/s400/LOST.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672845849245242610" border="0" /></a><br /><br />OK, i'd really appreciate it if you guys would stop reminding me about how much worse i'm getting at this.<br /></div>Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-58285903678704543102011-09-21T05:34:00.000-07:002011-09-21T06:10:34.024-07:00FETISHES THAT MAKE YOU GO WTF!<p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span">PUBLISHED IN MAXIM, August, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.</span></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;">Remember the days when a naked woman w</span><span style="font-size:130%;">as enough to get you off. If she was willing, that’s all the arousal you ever needed. You knew <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHi33vEW3DB7Aletb7QwxlKZkhuKEEB40S5hHduq2Cf8BLigCjN9ZoCrjSQSa06t_z4B6mODT4hV3LOM26hwZbg1UA6V8t3l9e_8cR1CsdYb9rZJlRLNK30GFH0MwoxRDpcbIyiw/s1600/fetishes-incendescent-bulbs-are-even-worse-demotivational-poster-1251236505.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 366px; height: 349px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHi33vEW3DB7Aletb7QwxlKZkhuKEEB40S5hHduq2Cf8BLigCjN9ZoCrjSQSa06t_z4B6mODT4hV3LOM26hwZbg1UA6V8t3l9e_8cR1CsdYb9rZJlRLNK30GFH0MwoxRDpcbIyiw/s400/fetishes-incendescent-bulbs-are-even-worse-demotivational-poster-1251236505.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654796207381515186" border="0" /></a></span><span style="font-size:130%;">what w</span><span style="font-size:130%;">en</span><span style="font-size:130%;">t</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> where. Insert tab A into slot B and almost everyone walked away happy. But times have changed. Th</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ere’s s</span><span style="font-size:130%;">ome weird shit out there. We’re not </span><span style="font-size:130%;">judging, but it seems there is a wide variety of arousal inducing stimuli. And when a stimuli is way out of what experts without Phds call “normal people’s sexy zone”, it becomes a fetish. We think it’s time you knew about them. The opportunity may arise when you might have to put some of this into practice to please your better half. And if you don’t know what you’re doing, you might land up with a foot in your mouth. Literally. <span style=""> </span>So, hold on to your gonads, S&M and Bondage pale in comparison to these. Let us begin.</span></p><p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="">Plushophilia</span></b><span style="">: If you walk into a house and see a stuffed Winnie-the-pooh with a violated look on his face, that’s the first sign that the owner is a Plusho.And it’s not just Winnie. It could be Bambi. Garfield. Or even a smurf. Defined as the unnatural attraction towards stuffed animals, you might want to know how exactly does one do the nasty with a teddy bear. Well, considering that none of them are objecting, anything goes. And the best part is, no dinner required and they’re not going to compare you to earlier lovers.<br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><b style=""><span style="">Formicophilia</span></b><span style="">: Recipe: 1 or more creepy crawlies. 1 naked person. 1 video camera because this stuff will be a guaranteed hit on Youtube.<span style=""> </span>Formicophilia is the act of getting your jollies from insects crawling on your genitals. So, what you do is get yourself a bunch of ants and put them where the sun don’t shine. The arousal derived from the insects crawling or even nibbling on the genitals is out of this world. And right on planet crazy. So if you’re ever wondering what a praying mantis is always imploring. It’s for shit like this not to happen to it.<br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><b style=""><span style="">Apotemnophilia</span></b><span style="">: The erotic interest in being an amputee. Alrighty then. Even we have a couple of questions here. Does this mean that you can only get an orgasm four times considering the limited number of limbs we humans have? Wouldn’t it be funny if you cut off everything and then realized you should have kept a hand to do the dirty deed? No? Ok. Moving on. Apotemnophilia has a close sister called Acrotomophilia, where one wants to jump into the sack with an amputee. Which is a lot less painful for the person with the fetish we think.</span></span></p><p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><br /><span style=""> </span></span></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><b style=""><span style="">Spectrophilia</span></b><span style="">: If you wanted a deeply spiritual sexual experience, it doesn’t get better than Spectrophilia. Ghost Sex. <span style=""> </span>We can’t imagine how much fun that could be considering ghosts don’t really have genitalia. Or any other body part to speak of for that matter. To imagine that they called in a psychic to get rid of the ghost in Poltergeist. All the spookie wanted was a lil nookie. Evidence of Spectrophilia can be seen in night clubs all over the nation. If you notice someone in the corner gyrating by themselves, pelvic thrusts and everything, they’re probably doing Casper. </span></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="">PS: we checked the rule book: you’re still a virgin even if you’ve done it with a ghost.<br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="">Nasophilia</span></b><span style="">: There are a couple of plus points with doing it in the nose. Yeah, you read right. In the nose. Number one: You can’t get anyone pregnant. Number two: Well, there’s no number two. That’s all we got. On the flip side, you’re never going to find someone with big enough nostrils except Om Puri. And if you do manage to go through with the act, you could probably kill someone. And nobody wants their epitaph to read “death by penis in the nose”.<br /></span></span></p><p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="">Macrophilia</span></b><span style="">: The bigger the better. Macrophilia is the attraction to large people. And we’re not talking about big-boned people. We’re looking at giants here, like Miss Gulliver. One of the lousier fetishes to be stuck with, there’s nothing much to work with here. Sure there’s the ginormous boobies, but other than using them as ski slopes or to plug in the hole in the ozone layer, we don’t really see the point. And how do you propose to satisfy the said giantess? You’ll need one hell of a magical enlargement pump.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="">Hybristophilia:</span></b><span style=""> Also called the Bonny and Clyde syndrome, Hybristophilia<span style=""> </span>is the attraction to people who have committed crimes. We don’t see this as a unique fetish, because if you’re in jail, a lot of your friends in there might already find you pretty damn attractive. Also, there must be some sort of benchmark for the kind of crime committed, correlated to the attraction. The 3G scam guys can’t possibly get a truck load of non-jail nookie. Perhaps you need to hold up a bank or something. And not one of ‘em cooperative banks.<span style=""> </span>A private bank with many ATMs and online banking.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="">Dacryphilia</span></b><span style="">: This is a fun one. Make em cry, and you’re on your way to happy town down there. As a part of BDSM, it involves one person witnessing the other in emotional distress. So, just put on a Van Damme movie, wait for the flood gates to open and you’re good to go. Other ways to do it are to admit that you wipe your hands to the curtain. Or simple say “Did you eat my girlfriend because I swear you were thinner yesterday”.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="">Mechanophilia: </span></b><span style="">Oooh yeah MH01 J 2431… is that an exhaust pipe right there or are you just happy to see me? What? The minivan? That meant nothing to me. It was just physical. A one time thing. The attraction to automobiles is not that strange when you come to think of it. Every guy has given their bike or car a sexy girl’s name like Betsy. Or Matilda. Whisper sweet nothing to make her run right. Given her a little tap on the rear to make her know she’s cared about. It’s only when you rub your piston against her petrol tank, that things get outta whack.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="">Phalloorchoalgolagnia </span></b><span style="">–might as well slap a picture of Osama down there. As if spelling the damn thing wasn’t painful enough Phalloorchoalgolagniacs like to get hit, squeezed, kicked, pinched, poked, pierced, flicked, bit down there. More pain, more gain, the intense soreness is supposed to heighten the sexual pleasure. With whatever is left of your mini punching bag of course.<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="">Vorarephilia</span></b><span style="">: Some people like being nibbled on the ears. Then there are others who like being eaten whole. Vorarephilia is a sexual fetish where arousal occurs from the idea of being eaten alive. We’re not sure of the technicalities here, but perhaps you need to marinate yourself first for at least 24 hours. A little ginger garlic paste maybe. Some lime. Salt to taste. And French beans for roughage. While the fantasy may or nay not include digestion, imagine having a whole person in you. Fidgeting around the whole day when you’re trying to get some work done. Isn’t that how hernias occur?<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""><br /></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style=""> </span></span></p> <p style="font-family: verdana;font-family:times new roman;" class="MsoNormal" ><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="">Sitophilia</span></b><span style="">: The attraction to food may seem normal to some. Licking some whipped cream of a body. Playing with cherries. But what about eating a whole meal? Some of us don’t put veggies in our mouths… why on earth put it on our body! That’s just revolting! Other Sitophiliacs also like their partners to interact with the food a bit more. For example, mash potatoes with their feet, and then stick their thingies in it. Why someone would try to impregnate a potato, beats us. Others also like to dabble in cocktails after their partners add their own personal ‘ingredients’. That’s one nasty way to temper the taste.</span></span></p>Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-14377832670685488582011-08-14T08:03:00.000-07:002011-08-14T08:08:58.465-07:00HELP<span style="font-size:180%;">Can someone help me design this blog? I am really bad at this.
<br />Anybody?</span>
<br /><span style="font-size:180%;">I will part with my wine, beer, fancy cheese and Ferrero Rocher if you do. </span>
<br />Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-33023375144833176132011-08-04T01:21:00.000-07:002011-08-04T07:48:06.969-07:00SPAMMERS - WHAT ARE THEY SMOKING?<span class="Apple-style-span" style=";font-family:'Trebuchet MS',Trebuchet,sans-serif;font-size:85%;" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span">PUBLISHED IN MAXIM, July 2011, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.</span></span></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBuwkKqW2Z47PiNExIJEcRRYh3dcTEcAlGCA4SM_-RWmr3HgVdDaJ1u1LjYICPUhzYOUGAuIZBApkiMf_j83CDDs4-lgSnfKMJTZgIqoturpnNldMx2dB2WMbArpBuGg3UbN3Yg/s1600/innocent-spam.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBuwkKqW2Z47PiNExIJEcRRYh3dcTEcAlGCA4SM_-RWmr3HgVdDaJ1u1LjYICPUhzYOUGAuIZBApkiMf_j83CDDs4-lgSnfKMJTZgIqoturpnNldMx2dB2WMbArpBuGg3UbN3Yg/s400/innocent-spam.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636915194668954530" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Spammers. The crazy guys that are trying to sell us a better sex life and a Rolex. It's</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">perhaps one of the most stressful and difficult jobs on the planet. Right up there with air-</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">traffic control guys an</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">d stool sample collector. First you've got to think of a catchy name </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">to send the mail from.<br />Like Dr Longtime Love</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">. Or Mum. A name that would pique the </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">interest of the reader to check out the subject. The title of the mail then</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"> has to give the </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">reader a little more to bite. Old-school spammers tried out the allure of money and sex</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">with subjects li</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">ke "lots of money - for free" or "free nude pics of Margaret Thatcher". But </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">the new generation spammers have</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;"> just lost the plot. In fact we've even got mails asking </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">if we'd like to "increase our mortgage by two inches". Maybe it's the stress of coming </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">up with novel ways to market whatever it is they're selling. Or maybe their weed de</span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">aler</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">is short-changing them. Either ways, if you're ever having a bad day at work, or feel</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">like doing weird things to your manhood / womanhood… CHECK YOUR SPAM. It's a </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">goldmine of entertainment.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Here are a couple of real spam subjects. Let's see what these schmucks are trying to tell </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">us.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >STIR UP A PASSION IN HER HEART WITH YOUR MAGIC WAND.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">There's a small flaw here. You can't really stir with a wand. You can make a bunny</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">appear though. But they'll just put you to shame with their humping techniques and that's </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">not going to do anybody any good. Perhaps what they should have said was - Stir up a </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">passion in her heart with your magic wooden ladle. Or make a good salad at least because </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">there’s nothing like keeping yourself healthy while you’re doing nasty things with your</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">human cutlery.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >HUGE LOVEMAKER HAS BECOME UNBELIEVABLY REAL</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">These guy are working under the assumption that our love-maker wasn't real before.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Like the tooth-fairy or insurance claims, it's a myth, The stuff that dreams are made of. </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Some men fantasize about owning a yacht. Other work hard towards getting their very </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">own twinkie. The best part is, now your office won't have a problem with you touching </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">yourself at your desk because, hey, it ain't there!</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >YOU'RE NEW JOYSTICK SCORES MORE<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Here's where it gets a bit confusing. First they're telling us it's imaginary. And now they</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">say he's playing a game down there. And something they're offering is going to help him </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">win. Don't get us wrong, we want him to win. But it might help if we just knew what </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">the hell he's playing. And what are the rules? Is it a team sport? Does he have to test for </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">dope? There's a good ball joke here dying to be told… but we'll stay away from it.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >GET YOUR ONLINE DOCTORATE IN MEDICINE NOW</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Is this thing legit? If the internet guys do manage to give out doctorates...makes</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">you wonder doesn't it. The guy standing over you with a scalpel... did he pass out </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">of www.surgery-for-dummies.com? Why is the surgeon googling stuff on his phone? </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">What does he mean his Bypass App ain't working?</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >DON'T WASTE YOUR LIFE WITH YOUR RIGHT HAND</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Now just hold on a minute. What are they trying to say about righty? Is he not trust-</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">worthy? It's the good-for-nothing hand? The one that mother warned us about? We can't </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">really walk out on our right hand can we? Sure ol' lefty will always be by our side. But </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">the other one's been there through good times and bad. Those days when we couldn't </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">sleep. The times when 'she' has her scheduled headaches. Or when you saw those lesbians</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">make-out at the club. Don't worry Mr. Right. You're number one in our books.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >YOU HAVE INHERITED 150,000 DOLLARS</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">This one's a beauty, They mail you saying that there's this guy in Nigeria who died and</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">his moolah has gone to the bank. And hello hello, he has the same surname as you. So </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">it's really simple, all you have to do is send them some money as processing fees, your </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">bank account details and they'll get the money out under the pretext that you're a long lost </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">relative. And they'll split it with you of course... 50-50. Now let's analyse this. There's a</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">dead Nigerian who has the same Indian surname as you. Sounds a wee bit fishy doesn't it. </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">But Watambe and Maturdas are almost alike. </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Then he has a plan to get the money out. And all he needs is a little money and your bank </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">account details. Fair enough. And he wants to split it 50-50. There you go. That's your</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">clue that this is a rip-off. Who would want to split it. Now if he said 60-40 we would</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">have probably gone ahead with it.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >SUPERSIZE YOUR LITTLE BABYMAKER</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">We'd really wish they'd stop calling it little. Besides we make up for it with enthusiasm</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">anyway. Moving on, what's nice here is the fast-food touch that they've incorporated. </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Yes, supersize it and a large coke with fries please. And take-away. We'd like to carry </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">it around. You never know when the urge to make a baby might arise. When you're at </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">immigration at the airport. Or when you're scuba-diving. Wham, you feel like making a</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">baby. No fear, the supersized procreator is here.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE JUST WON THE LOTTERY!</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Yup, you have won 1 million dollars! So why don't you give us a couple of bucks so we</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">can send the money to you. You know, because we spent all the cash we had organising </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">the damn lottery thing. But congratulations once again. Ok, there's a simple formula here </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">of figuring out whether this is a scam or not. Have you bought a lottery ticket lately? </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">No?</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Chances are, you didn't win it then. Trust us, we ran the numbers and they keep coming</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">up with the same answers. You can't win the lottery if you didn't participate in the lottery.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">It's one of those freaky laws of nature. Go Figure.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >HELP THIS POOR UKRAINIAN GIRL IF YOU HAVE A HEART.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">This one doesn't solicit money but it just annoys the f@&* out of us. There's a girl. In</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Ukraine. And she has no shoes. And for every person you forward this mail to, Microsoft </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">will donate one dollar to the Ukranian Girl Shoe Fund. Also known as UGSF (acronyms </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">always do wonders.) Why would Bill Gates do that? What kind of crazy-assed diamond </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">encrusted hi–tech shoes is he going to buy her? Does it have windows? Will it crash</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">every half an hour so you have to upgrade to Shoe XP?</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >STRANGE HOT FACE BOOK GIRL WANTS TO BE YOUR FRIEND</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">You log in one fine day and Tatiana wants to be your friend. Tatiana - who's a D cup,</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">showing her cleavage right down to her toes, wants to get to know you better. You accept </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">and a couple of minutes later she's shoving links down your pants asking you check out </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">her photos. First, wipe off the big L on your forehead. The hot Tatianas of the world </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">are busy making movies like the Good, the Bad & the Horny and MegaGrind. She has</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">no time to log on and add you, out of the blue, just because she's feeling a bit sociable </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">today.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >BY HAVING A BEAUTIFUL LUXURY DESIGNER REPLICA WATCH, YOUR</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >GIRLFRIEND WILL BE SURELY INCLINED TOWARDS YOU AT ONCE.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Note the words carefully. Designer replica watch. Not your ordinary replicas. Those</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">are so 2010. We've got designer replicas these days. They take those fakes and make it </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">look nothing like the original. Next, how did this woman become your girlfriend without </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">already being inclined to you? Or perhaps she's straying from the path of exclusivity. And </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">what better way to get her back then to go out there and wear a replica watch? Good-</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">looks, sensitivity and loads of cash are so over-rated.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >GIVE YOUR LADY GODLY ACTION IN BED WITH YOUR NEW PECKER</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Yeah... throw away your old pecker and give her some of that Zeus action. Lightening </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">bolts, fire, kaboom... that sort of thing. Wonder what they do with all them old discarded </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">peckers? Maybe there's a graveyard somewhere, just like how elephants have their secret </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">graveyards, where old peckers go to rest. Poor guys. They give, and they give, and they </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">give… and there's just no appreciation. The minute something bigger and better comes</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">along, it's seeya later masturbator.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >SEXY GIRLS WILL LOOK AT YOU DIFFERENTLY - THRILL HER MORE</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;" >EVERY NIGHT WITH BIGPENISENLARGEMENT.COM</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">One question. How would these sexy girls know that woody wooden pecker has now</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">graduated into the big league? Do they have a radar to sense these things? Unless of </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">course, they promise that it's gonna grow soooo big that it will hang below your pants </span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">sleeves. Do shoes come as triplets? Just wondering.</span>Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-30660626948063445342011-01-06T09:36:00.000-08:002011-01-06T10:58:23.639-08:00THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PORN AND REALITY<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEXbCUUhk0Kg85CdhvkBpBGgj3hUfuCn1NIeffNYV4YUhWtJIq2zC46xPjsMueLUba-0uxcvW1C0gQMUz9QbPSZgq_OxAYvT4FiQ9APBCpx7Dglfapvxj_L7ZL-oJqVd9-s6gOQ/s1600/155703_10150330115410398_541305397_15685530_7976629_n.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 315px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYEXbCUUhk0Kg85CdhvkBpBGgj3hUfuCn1NIeffNYV4YUhWtJIq2zC46xPjsMueLUba-0uxcvW1C0gQMUz9QbPSZgq_OxAYvT4FiQ9APBCpx7Dglfapvxj_L7ZL-oJqVd9-s6gOQ/s320/155703_10150330115410398_541305397_15685530_7976629_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5559147543896074882" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSd9zAnairgZsQkUYOA5pT6E6bdz6u06_rOhi6wVrpnJ_EJjNaHryS9TOT2FNA_RC9zOFA4ELGM3kSPCnf2m7nxi6nHlqkYNmkOFDhOff_616SpnEAzSQIE-QkbG2p-1tGFeDMqQ/s1600/155703_10150330115410398_541305397_15685530_7976629_n.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><br /></a> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">Every self respecting man has watched his fare share of porn. We’ve downloaded, bought, borrowed and lived vicariously through our HD TVs and computer screens. What some of us, however, fail to understand is that no amount of finger crossing, lamp rubbing or praying will ever make the events on screen happen to you. There are more chances of Oprah appearing on Playboy than any of those things occurring to you, dear horny friend. Besides, some of the details in those stories are little bit of a stretch. Let’s start of with the characters, for instance.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><b>The Characters</b></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">Seriously, nurses do not look like that! They don’t wear short skirts. They don’t leave the tops of their uniforms unbuttoned. Also, we’re pretty sure they don’t shave. And we’re not talking about the crotchular area. Facial hair, legs, hands, backs… the works. There is some good news though if you’re into playing around with your derriere. If you ask nicely, we’re sure they’ll be more than willing to give you an enema. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">And when a teacher in real life says she will “punish you appropriately after class”, chances are, she’s going punish the shit out of you after class. The bitch slaps and rulers to the knuckles are the closest you’re gonna get to S&M. Moreover, Miss Matthews does not, and will never bend down in front of you to pick up chalk. If she did, you’d really wish she hadn’t. That sort of imagery will leave behind scars for the rest of your life.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">Let’s move on to the latino maids. There are none over here. Instead of Izabelle, we have mother-of-six, rolling pin aficionado - Kantabai. Don’t be mistaken… we love her! Kantabai is someone who cooks, cleans, takes out the garbage and basically puts our lives in order. Why would we want to screw up that relationship? She would not be cool with you filming her cleaning the house naked. So don’t even try.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">Then there’s also the 18 year old girl scout. We’ve never seen here. Not only is she as fictional as Santa Clause, you’d get as many sexual favours from, as you would the fat man. So stop waiting by the door. Here’s the harsh reality. The only strangers to knock at your door will be the milkman with his bill, the electricity guy with his bill, the newspaper guy with his bill, and the tax evasion guys. Get out and earn your nookie like everyone else. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><b>The Storyline</b></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'"> </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">The old ‘doing it with your female boss in the office after working hours’ plot. Forget about it. First of all, there’s a 0.0025 % chance that you’re going to be hired by a playboy bunny boss. And a 0.0005 % chance that she’s going to punish you for that shabby report by taking off her clothes. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">Joining dominos will also not increase your chances of getting some tail on the side. So don’t give up your day job. Cmmon.. be realistic! If she’s ordering pizza, she’s probably not alone. Secondly, she definitely has money at home. So there’s no way in hell she’s going to offer to pay you through other services. Besides, do you think a lady with burning loins out there will be looking to sleep with someone who’s publicly advertising that they’d come the quickest? We think not. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">How about the photographer who gets in models and sweet talks them into taking their clothes off for a few aesthetic shots. And then bumps uglies with them. In reality, you will need a professional studio. With the real estate rates these days, that alone will kill your mojo. Then you need to invest in equipment to at least give the illusion that you know what you’re doing. And if you do manage to set everything up and rake a girl in, write to us from jail and tell us what kind of lens you used. Who knows we’ll even mail you a free issue of Maxim while you’re in the can. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">Owner of the love mobile. So you’re driving around in your run-down van asking random hot chicks to hop in the back. Then after a few jokes they hump your friend’s brains out while you drive around town nonchalantly. There are a few small flaws here. Random hot chicks usually come with balding men driving porches. It’s a packaged deal. They’ve never heard of walking. Secondly, they’re not going to get into your matchbox on wheels. Not even if you told them that there’s a leprechaun with a pot of diamonds in the back seat. Thirdly, with the price of petrol, how the hell in anyone going to drive around till your friend gets his groove on. Fourthly, where are you going to find an empty road in an Indian city? Fifthly, who in their right minds would opt to be a driver, while someone else gets the action? Another myth debunked, thanks to the scientists of porn right here at Maxim, thank you very much.</p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">Then there’s the one about being stranded on an island full of naked hot tribal blondes who haven’t had some jungle love till you showed up. The usual plot goes like this - you’re wandering through the jungle looking for some signs of life. You stumble upon a tribe of women praying to the sun god for a man who can give them the good lovin. Enter stage right – you. So here’s what you need to do for that to happen. Get onto a boat and sink it (to keep in line with the story of course). Then swim a few thousand kilometres to the nearest deserted island. If it doesn’t look deserted enough , keep swimming till you find one. Once you’re satisfied, walk around till you find a group of women who have somehow managed to reproduce and spawn more blondes without a man around. Then it’s all easy going from there as you teach them the horny ways of the civilised world. All this while the chimpanzee choral symphony sing Pow Chicka Wow Wow in harmony on the side. See? Easy Peasy! </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">And one of our personal favourite – the best friend’s mom. You get to your friend’s place and surprise, surprise he’s not home. His mom is though. And if looks are anything to go by, she must have given birth to your friend when she was 10. She then proceeds to tell you that since her husband died in a freak accounting incident, she’s never had a man. During the next 60 minutes, she shows Mr Woody what it’s been missing. Now come back to the real world. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">Close your eyes and think of your closest friend’s mother. Now picture her naked. Ok, after you’ve thrown up, we ask you another question? Why does your friend still stay with his mother? </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">Let’s go to the stunts. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'"><b>The moves</b></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">First of all, we’re not equipped with drill bits like pornstars such as Peter North or Rocco Siffredi. We’re not expected to! The average Indian penis size is 10 cms or 4 inches. So stop tugging at the thing, you’re just fine. It’s just like any other movie you see on the silver screen. You exaggerate the drama because it’s entertainment. It’s just that in porn, they cast the exceptions to the rule. There’s no need to order that suction pump no more. All you need is some good moves and you’re good to go. It might also be prudent to hide your stash of porn from the missus, though. You don’t want her thinking that there are possibilities out there. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">Coming back to the performances. You can’t go on for 45 minutes at a stretch without popping it. It’s just not human! Sure you can think of grandma, clean the pipes before hand, or even apply some gels. But to keep going on an on like the energizer bunny for that long is just plain ridiculous. Even if you could, you would wear your woman out before you know it. Nobody wants them 2 minutes noodles. But the agonisingly long baked potato isn’t so hot either. If you’ve got something searing in between, you’re good to go. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">Then of course, there are the positions. Our legs JUST DON’T BEND THAT WAY. Perhaps it’s the magic of cinema. Or maybe they don’t have knee joints. If you want to try to put your own ankles behind your ears while doing the hula hoop and receiving fellatio at the same time, by all means, go ahead. But we did warn you, those stunts have been performed by professionals and should not be tried at home. You’d be better off driving a moped through a ring of fire. At least the little captain won’t be bent out of shape. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">Then there are the locations that are viable for fornication. The forest - In all honesty, we’d be too busy looking out for snakes, bears and poison ivy before we’d even put on the Barry White CD and light our candles. And it’s a little weird doing it in front of rabbits. The kings of hump would probably judge us and our moves, which is a little unnerving. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">Public transport is no easier. Considering how jam packed our buses and trains get, you will get action all right. The only problem is that you can’t control the sex of your partner. Or the positions you find yourself in. Common public transport sex positions, by default, are the ‘twisted donut’ the ‘straddling monkey’ and the ‘hernia patient’. You might not like it, but you take what you get. </p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; min-height: 15.0px"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'">A few notes before we end. Pornography is like a fairytale. It’s a make believe world that keeps us happy in our own freakish way. Maybe some of us get through our cruel and gruelling days hoping that some alignment of the planets will make our hot neighbour come over for salt and end up giving a little sugar. But here’s the good news. Truth is stranger than fiction. And stuff worthy of the erotic screens has been known to happen. When you least expect it, you could hit the jackpot. Who knows… tales of your sexcapades will be told far and wide. Till then, stay focused on the real world, and have fun while you’re at it. </p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: justify; line-height: 12.0px; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', Trebuchet, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 20px;font-size:-webkit-xxx-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:15px;">PUBLISHED IN MAXIM, November 2011, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.</span></span></span></p>Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-54570512174785673062010-12-21T22:24:00.000-08:002010-12-21T22:51:52.308-08:00COUNTRY ROADS, KILL ME NOW<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOvmhhEgtYtdQxmyHwdwx2T5eUNcpp2KCOA_pVDb4Ds2xk73GNUMTOi4AGngBe-MdP6HyUURecxwI89cwnj6tZv8ffHpwXI383IRbdT2MSpXenP6Xl0lVOipJVaaQyZ4au1afPvw/s1600/WOrd+to+Jpeg.jpg">
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<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Wingdings; panose-1:5 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:2; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:0 268435456 0 0 -2147483648 0;} @font-face {font-family:"trebuchet \000D\000Ams"; panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-alt:"Times New Roman"; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:auto; mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Trebuchet MS"; panose-1:2 11 6 3 2 2 2 2 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:647 0 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-GB;} span.hw {mso-style-name:hw;} span.pron0x {mso-style-name:pron0x;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} /* List Definitions */ @list l0 {mso-list-id:1002851239; mso-list-type:hybrid; mso-list-template-ids:848839610 67698689 67698691 67698693 67698689 67698691 67698693 67698689 67698691 67698693;} @list l0:level1 {mso-level-number-format:bullet; mso-level-text:; mso-level-tab-stop:1.15in; mso-level-number-position:left; margin-left:1.15in; text-indent:-.25in; font-family:Symbol;} ol {margin-bottom:0in;} ul {margin-bottom:0in;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><div> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Country music IS the devil's music. My roommate once played a whole set of country songs and Satan himself appeared before us. </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3HbBf_g1RFwaeU_Ugoo3RPUe9ikaBuCDa424n88XdDy8Sh2Jz_ub0Vn606Y2ZMUrroZAJHJZXmFG-d_YYrSlgAqDzumagywKoke04Wje2rNkg_KyU_d95HUPL0ugwhf38cNGjJg/s1600/118278127v12_225x225_Front.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 209px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3HbBf_g1RFwaeU_Ugoo3RPUe9ikaBuCDa424n88XdDy8Sh2Jz_ub0Vn606Y2ZMUrroZAJHJZXmFG-d_YYrSlgAqDzumagywKoke04Wje2rNkg_KyU_d95HUPL0ugwhf38cNGjJg/s400/118278127v12_225x225_Front.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553394072677083602" border="0" /></a></p><div> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">But then he just begged us to switch those infernal sounds off.</span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">True Story. <o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Anyway, I must have listened to a hundred country tracks. And that got me thinking. </span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Don't start applauding, I'm not done yet.</span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><p style="text-align: justify;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Country music has a pattern. A methodology of lyrics and sounds that sets it apart from normal people's music.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Listen to a couple of country tracks and you'll find that they either have: </span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.15in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Symbol;"><span style=""><span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";">
<br /></span></span></span></p><ul><li><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:Symbol;"><span style=""><span style="font: 7pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style=";font-family:";" lang="EN-GB">A Dog</span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></li><li><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=";font-family:";" lang="EN-GB">A ranch<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=";font-family:";" lang="EN-GB">A donkey<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=";font-family:";" lang="EN-GB">A woman who left him<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=";font-family:";" lang="EN-GB">A woman who died<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=";font-family:";" lang="EN-GB">Donkey / dog that left him.<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=";font-family:";" lang="EN-GB">Donkey / dog that died.<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><span style=";font-family:";" lang="EN-GB">A woman who left with the dog on the donkey, and then died.<o:p></o:p></span></li><li><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style=";font-family:";" lang="EN-GB">A cowboy with emotional problems</span></li></ul>
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<br /> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.2in;"><span lang="EN-GB"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Paint these lyrics with Texan colours and you have yerself a hit, y'all.</span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Of course, you are allowed to bring other animals and objects into the song at your own discretion. I've taken the trouble to make a table for you so you can get your country theme going (proof that spending a long weekend out of the house is more constructive).<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Just randomly pick from each of the columns for your own country hit! <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="" lang="EN-GB">Let me know what topics you've chosen by leaving a comment behind.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOvmhhEgtYtdQxmyHwdwx2T5eUNcpp2KCOA_pVDb4Ds2xk73GNUMTOi4AGngBe-MdP6HyUURecxwI89cwnj6tZv8ffHpwXI383IRbdT2MSpXenP6Xl0lVOipJVaaQyZ4au1afPvw/s1600/WOrd+to+Jpeg.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 612px; height: 541px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOvmhhEgtYtdQxmyHwdwx2T5eUNcpp2KCOA_pVDb4Ds2xk73GNUMTOi4AGngBe-MdP6HyUURecxwI89cwnj6tZv8ffHpwXI383IRbdT2MSpXenP6Xl0lVOipJVaaQyZ4au1afPvw/s400/WOrd+to+Jpeg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553391032963465298" border="0" /></a>
<br /><span style="" lang="EN-GB"></span><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Once you've mixed and matched your options, you should have something like<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b><span lang="EN-GB">"My cow bobby-joe makes me wear lace panties everyday in the barn, and that's why I cry"</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">That my friend, is the theme/title to your new hit country song.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">From now on the words don't matter. You can keep repeating the same line over and over again but remember to intersperse it with some guitar TWANGS.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">They can't be strums or cool guitar riffs.</span></p><span lang="EN-GB">They <i style="">have</i> to be twangs.</span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="hw"><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="hw"><span lang="EN-GB">twang</span></span><span lang="EN-GB"> <span class="pron0x">[twæŋ] <i style="">n: </i></span>a sharp ringing sound produced by plucking of a taut string producing an effect as if the guitar is pleading the musician to stop what he’s doing.
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><span class="pron0x"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="pron0x"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Ok we're done. You're a country professional. Don't worry if people say you ain't talented. Talent's got nothing to do with country music.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Once you've made your platinum records and won your award at the cowboy Grammies, you know who to thank. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And the answer is NOT your donkey. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span> Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-681416891931581332010-12-20T01:27:00.000-08:002010-12-20T01:46:41.456-08:00THINGS WOMEN WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND ABOUT MEN.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYlqJZrf5yr0CuApWa-PXgvlCasfYNmP_iTc_R2WzOQZM32XdGO6G9YkHl6IqvApjAQiDpEPoKHuwxTJBMChY7F2XMNSp_7XFR92QsaJZ0RgRHjvT0yQ83exmXMnmuXnWuZU9caQ/s1600/adam-and-eve.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 208px; height: 292px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYlqJZrf5yr0CuApWa-PXgvlCasfYNmP_iTc_R2WzOQZM32XdGO6G9YkHl6IqvApjAQiDpEPoKHuwxTJBMChY7F2XMNSp_7XFR92QsaJZ0RgRHjvT0yQ83exmXMnmuXnWuZU9caQ/s320/adam-and-eve.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552698238590836882" border="0" /></a>
<br /><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C02%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-GB;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span lang="EN-GB">In the beginning God created Adam. After some thought and a lot of tinkering he pulled out a rib from the poor sod and created a pretty little thing called Eve. Eve never really got Adam. Apart from the fact that he had weird looking body parts, his thinking was radically different. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span lang="EN-GB">Eve wanted to cover his poker with a fig leaf. He preferred going commando. She preferred eating forbidden apples. He liked kobé beef with a side of bacon and potatoes. And the way he looked at some of the sheep made Eve very insecure about her looks. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">Which wasn’t Adam’s intention…but it’s just a case in point that there are some things about men that women will never understand. Never. Fast forward to the 21 century and things are pretty much the same. Read on and see.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span lang="EN-GB">
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<br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">Shopping isn’t therapy for men</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">. Women have a million excuses to shop. A 50% off sale. A party to go to. A chipped nail. A break-up. Or even swine flu. Men have one reason. We need new clothes. And there are clear rules as to when clothes become old. The colour should have faded to another colour that isn’t cool. A rip in our pants, if, and only if those pants are not denim. Ripped denims are absolutely fine. Lucky shirts are not to be replaced under any circumstances. The food stains have memories to them. And the moth eaten holes add character. We won’t replace it. You can’t make us. Even if you withhold sex. Ok… perhaps you can.
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<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">Men understand the healing properties of beer. </span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Beer is <i>the</i> elixir of life. Beer heals the broken heart, the broken bone and is the answer to the cure for cancer, given that our researchers have downed enough beer. The best remedy to a hang-over? More beer! It makes your cooking more palatable. It keeps the <st1:place st="on">Vatican</st1:place> going. <b>Beer is not just an alcoholic beverage</b>. For men, it’s a food group. Just like doughnuts and spare-ribs. It’s the main reason my birds chirp and snakes move in the groovy way they do. Beer – there’s just no denying it.
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<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span lang="EN-GB"> <b>We’re not always analysing our relationship. </b>Sometimes it’s just fine for us to stare at the ceiling and not think about taking the next step in our relationship. You know that intense contemplative look we get when we’re looking into the deep abyss of nothingness? There are three possibilities to what might be going on there. We’re either sulking over the loss of our favourite team. Or, we’re passing gas. And the most plausible… WE’RE NOT THINKING ANYTHING. That’s what we do. We zone out to a happy place of absolute nothingness. It’s a gift. Think of it as beans induced meditation.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><b><span lang="EN-GB">We’re always ready for sex. </span></b><span lang="EN-GB">You wanna know what’s a clear sign that we want nookie? We’re breathing. That’s the sign. It’s ok to wake us up for sex at any time. Absolutely any time. Nine times out of ten, sex takes precedence over sleep. The other one time we’re just recovering from a romp. And to be honest... some of us are good to go again. We don’t need a reason, a place, a mood or the proper lightning. We’re understanding beings. Football’s on? No problemo. That’s why Kamasutra was invented. So we can twist our bodies in such unimaginable ways that we can enjoy two things at once. A lil footy and a lil nookie. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span lang="EN-GB"> <b>We don’t know what a conditioner is. </b>Seriously. What the fuck is it? We just got around the shampoo bit. Lather, rinse, repeat… we get it. Now conditioner? What does it condition? Or let’s take a step back. What does condition even mean? Men don’t get it. I’m not even sure we want to. Is it like a primer? Or a glaze? You know how you baste the chicken with butter to make it all shiny. Perhaps that’s what it does. Truth be told – it’s a ploy. If you don’t see a conditioner on our shelves, it’s because we refuse to bow down to corporate marketing gimmicks. All we need is our trusted old deo that promised to get us the chiquitas. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">We’ll watch porn no matter how much sex we’re getting. </span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Here’s the thing. What women see as pornographic movies, men see as educational video aids. It’s almost like a distance learning course. We’re always in this constant state of learning, absorbing what’s new, and putting into practice. So what if the teachers happen to be mutli-award winning porn stars Jenna Jameson and Jenna Haze? You know that new move we bring to the bedroom? We didn’t read that stuff in Readers Digest. We leaned that from ‘XXX Men – The rise of Erecto Magnifico.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">Our obsessions with breasts</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">. What’s not to like? They’re magical! They’re like everyday Christmas presents. Perhaps that’s why we’re fixated with the things. One stupid apple in the beginning of time and they’ve been covered for all eternity. If you’re hiding them, they must be special. If women started wearing ear-muffs all the time, we’d start paying good money just to see pictures of their ears. A woman would cross you in the park, and you’d turn to your friend as say “Check out the lobes on that chick!”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">Why we don’t stop to ask for directions</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">. A debatable study says that men have a little extra iron deposited in their bodies. And like a compass, we’re supposed to have a pretty good sense of direction. Well, theoretically at least. But truth be told, asking for directions is a sign of weakness. Men are always fighting to be pack leaders. The rest are supposed to look to us for help and assistance. Not the other way around. We’re supposed to know where things are. Most of us can find the fridge and toilet in the dark. A restaurant half way across town can’t be all that tough.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">Why we don’t remember important dates and things. </span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Again, men are always in a constant state of learning. Like sponges, we’re constantly absorbing data, mostly to make our better halves happy. But nobody can hold an infinite amount of information. Something’s gotta give. Effectively, for every new bit that is processed, something old has to go. We learn the answer to “Am I pretty” and we forget the answer to “Am I fat”. We learn your mother’s name, we forget our anniversary. We remember to pick up milk, we forget the shout out the right name in bed. It’s simple mathematics and we can’t be blamed for it.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">The need to control the remote is in our man genes</span></b><span lang="EN-GB">. It’s not something that can be treated. It’s the law of nature. Women might not know the proper technique of speed- flipping during commercials. How to watch two programs at once. Or even the specific volume levels for each program. For example every man knows that Sex and the City can be best enjoyed when the volume is at 2. And Die Hard ... 88 or even 89. These things are built into our DNA. So let us do what we do best and hand over the remote</span>.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">Men appreciate beauty in the most unlikely of places.</span></b><span lang="EN-GB"> The neighbour who steps out for a jog in a tank-top. The yoga instructor in flat 24-c in desperate need of opaque curtains. The girl with a tongue stud at the check-out counter. Women might misunderstand our roving eyes for being inconsiderate. Insensitive. Some even go to the extent of saying we objectify them. Well, excuse us for applauding God’s handy work. Us looking around is just our way of giving him a spiritual high-5.</span><b><span lang="EN-GB"></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">Violence = entertainment. </span></b><span lang="EN-GB">Movies<b> </b>about a hooker falling in love with a billionaire is a no-no. One about a girl falling in love with a bat and a wolf is also a pass. We’re born hunters. Get us close to the action. Aliens. Helicopters exploding. Cars crashing. Aliens crashing helicopters into cars. All we need is a semi-decent plot, a couple of explosions, all sprinkled with the integral sex scene. Safe to say, we’re flexible on the plot part. A flick with anything less than a paper-cut is not likely to get the adrenaline pumping.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">
<br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><b><span lang="EN-GB">We don’t know why you’re angry. </span></b><span lang="EN-GB">So stop walking around in a huff saying “you know what you did.” <b> </b>We just don’t remember. Was it that reference to your mother being Satan’s spawn? Did we mention your weight? Is today our 140 month anniversary. Just come out and say it, because we’re not lying when we say We Don’t Know. Asking us to figure it out will just have us apologising for ridiculous stuff. “Honey, I’m sorry I took you out to dinner. I apologise if that man didn’t know you were just a bit bloated and not expecting twins.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style=""><span lang="EN-GB">
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<br /></span></p><span style="color: rgb(31, 73, 125);font-size:11pt;" >PUBLISHED IN MAXIM, November 2011, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.</span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-36284561955877293262010-09-23T22:26:00.000-07:002010-09-23T22:50:58.141-07:0015 things you thoughts you knew... but really didn't.<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link style="font-family: georgia;" rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: georgia;" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: georgia;" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="country-region"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: georgia;" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: georgia;" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype style="font-family: georgia;" namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-GB;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Something else I wrote for Maxim </span></span>
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<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">Everybody knows one of them. The Mr I- know- it- all- so- pass- me- my- wine- whilst- I- sip- on- it-with- my- pinky- finger- up. The guy who takes great efforts to never appear surprised. Well, here’s some trivia that’ll send the alcohol shooting right through his nostrils and onto his Spongebob tie.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;">
<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-weight: bold;">1) Pluto is a planet.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">It isn’t! I know what you’re thinking. WTF? Well apparently it’s a poser. A fake. Just like root beer, it can’t be trusted. So here’s the lowdown. One fine night when the bespectacled guys wielding telescopes were sitting around smoking the whacky tabbacky, one of them suddenly said “Wait a minute” Pluto, doesn’t make the cut. Now, Pluto is considered a dwarf planet and is part of something called the Kuiper Belt. But the whole thing is still debatable.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;">
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">2) Porn stars don’t get camera shy<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">They do! Who would have thought? Sometimes it’s just hard in front of the camera. Not<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">literally. That’s why they have fluffers. Men and women who do what it takes to get the<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">actors ‘ready’ for the next shot. They’re usually armed with knee-pads and Listerine.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;">
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">3) Cold showers and coffee will sober you up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">Shorry. Just like a relationship gone bad, only time will heal. According to credible sources (cough... google), it takes the body one hour to get the alcohol from one drink out of the body. Give a drunk a cuppa, and all your get is a wide awake drunk.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;">
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">4) Eve offered an apple to Adam<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">She did send him down shit creek. But nowhere does it say in the bible that an apple was involved. All the book says is that it was ‘a’ fruit. It could have been a banana. Or an avocado. Or that smelly fruit you get in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Bangkok</st1:place></st1:city>.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;">
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">5) Michael Jackson was a black man.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">Well, we still love her music.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia">
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">6) Size doesn’t matter<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia"><span lang="EN-GB">That’s what we keep telling ourselves, isn’t it? It’s what you do with it that counts. Well, the gifted don’t even have to try. They get it on like Donkey Kong without even trying. Not to discredit those of us who have our special moves, but could you really stand next to Moby over there and still feel confident?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" face="georgia">
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">7) Fire is the most important invention<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">Not even the wheel. Fermentation wins by a landslide. Alcohol – the solution to all of life’s problems. Except alcoholism and <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">India</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s dismal performance at hockey. But that’s still debatable.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;">
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">8) The answer to “Do you think I’m fat?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">You’re wrong. Whatever your answer is, it’s wrong. Trust us; studies have proven that there is no possible right answer to this question. Replies like “No”, “Yes” and “Compared to what?” will all get you into some serious trouble.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: georgia;">
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">9) Slaves built the pyramids<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">And you thought you knew your history. Nobody likes being whipped at work unless, that is, you have a really hot boss in leather. That’s why the Pharaohs hired people from around the area to help build the pyramids. Free men who couldn’t farm because of the flooding <st1:place st="on">Nile</st1:place>. And they next best thing to do was lug stones around. True story.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;">
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">10) Bats are blind<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">Apparently they see pretty darn good. Just not as well as humans. But they do use some form of sonar called echolocation when their eyesight fails them. So technically, the metaphor ‘as blind as a bat’ should actually be changed to ‘as visually impaired to some extent as a bat’.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;">
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">11) Viking raped and pillaged<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">Get this... their average height was just around 5’7”. They weren’t all blonde. (Yes, Asterix did lie to us.) And these testosterone-packing, raping, pillaging beasts were mostly pussycats that were employed as farmers, craftsmen and traders. The Vikings that took the sea did pillage a little. But just a wee bit. And it was just one of their list of top ten things to do.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;">
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">12) Lightening doesn’t strike twice in the same place.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">It can. It does. Especially if there’s some sort of radio antenna perched up in a high place. So if you find yourself holding a metal rod on the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Empire</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">State </st1:placetype></st1:place>Building (it could happen), and you’re struck by lightening, drop the rod and run like the wind.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;">
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">13) Women don’t pass gas<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:georgia;"><span lang="EN-GB">They do. It’s one of them Ninja farts. Nobody knows when or how it happened. Apparently someone in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Mexico</st1:place></st1:country-region> actually caught a woman farting on tape. But rumour has it that if you watch the tape, you get a call immediately, and then you die in seven days.</span></p>
<br /><p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">14) Beer doesn’t kill brain cells<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">So, there are these people get paid to study beer. Great job right? Anyway, the latest study was to analyse the effects of beer on the brain cells. Assuming that the magic drink did not hinder the judgement of the ‘analysers’, it turns out that beer DOES NOT kill the brain cells. It affects the nerve connectors between them. But no damage to the brain cells. For the most part. Sustained abuse though is a different story.</span></p><p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal">
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<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p style="font-weight: bold;font-family:georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">15) Hotel California is about devil worship<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p face="georgia" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">It’s not about Lucifer. It’s not about killing the prince of darkness. It’s not even about a freakin hotel. The not-so-cool interpretation? It’s about hedonism and greed in <st1:place st="on">Southern California</st1:place> in the 70s. The Eagles enjoyed the money, cars and women and then proceeded to tell the world how bad it all was.</span></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal">
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<br /></p><p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Published in Maxim, August 2010, All Rights Reserved</span></span>
<br /><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p style="font-family: georgia;" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<br />Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-13974715966070342662010-07-10T09:36:00.000-07:002010-07-10T09:43:40.544-07:0011 DATES THAT EVERY GUY SHOULD REMEMBER<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style="font-size:12pt;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">*Something I wrote for Maxim magazine a couple of months ago.*</span></span></b></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Use post-its. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Imprint them on your brain. Tattoo them on your body parts for all I care. Here is a list of dates that every guy should remember for the betterment of all mankind and possibly, world peace. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto;margin-left:54.0pt;mso-add-space:auto;text-indent:-18.0pt;line-height: normal;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo1"><b><i><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi- mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:Georgia;font-size:12.0pt;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">1)</span><span style="font:7.0pt "Times New Roman""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span></span></span></i></b><b><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">14</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> March </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">- </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Steak and Blow job day<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">It’s what dreams are made of. Erotic dreams. Not the one about you showing up naked to work. Invented by Tom Birdsey, god bless his soul, this day has been dedicated to meat. Literally. It’s the perfect repartee to Valentine’s Day which, contrary to popular opinion, is not meant for lovers. Every intelligent guy knows Valentines was invented </span></span></i><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">by women, for women only. Well, March 14</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> is ours.</span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><b><i><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">2) 12th March / 13th June - World Naked Bike Ride Day<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">People are protesting. And they’re protesting in the best way possible. Through the forceful and persuasive means of nakedness. And it’s time we join them. Bare as much as you want. Hop on to your bicycle. And remember to wear a helmet. You don’t want to hurt something. By the way, just in case you’re interested, they’re protesting oil dependency.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">3) Every woman’s birthday <o:p></o:p></span></b></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Well not every woman. That’s plain ridiculous. But you’re wife’s/ girlfriend’s, her mothers, both grandmothers on her side and your side and all female relatives on her side. Hey, we don’t make up the rules. We just follow them. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><b><i><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">4) 5th August </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">- International Beer Day<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">This may lead to some confusion, because a lot of us think that every day is beer day. Either way, International Beer Day is the day celebrated in August when it’s still warm enough to enjoy an ice cold beer as opposed to the Oktoberfest. Ways to celebrate include drinking beer (check), drinking beer with friends (check), and buying beer for others (WTF, it’s beer day again?). Lastly, tradition states that you greet someone by handing them a beer and saying “I bring you the gift of beer (you cheap shit)’ whilst smiling. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">5) Fall 2010 – Launch of PlayStation Move<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Fall is what saner people call September. And that’s when Sony hits the retail outlets with its answer to the Nintendo Wii. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">With better graphic support and a remote that pretty much looks like a vibrator, it’s fun for the whole family! <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></o:p></span></i><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> 6</span></o:p></span></i><b><i><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">) December 21st 2012 – The End of Something</span></span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">The acting in 2012 may have been hammy, but the movie wasn’t entirely baseless. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">The Mayan Calendar’s 5125 year cycle ends on that date. Various interpretations have been proposed, right from an apocalypse to the ushering in a ‘Golden Era’ of spiritual elevation. Whatever be the case, we’ve warned you. So grab your alcohol stash, head into your bunker and come out when things have settled down. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><b><i><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">7) 11th June 2010 - The Football World Cup<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">The greatest tournament of them all – The FIFA World Cup. For one month 32 teams from 5 continents will battle it out for world supremacy. Right now, we we can’t find 11 players from our own country of a billion to cheer. So pick a team with the hottest fans, call the blokes over and crack open an ice-cold one. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><b><i><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">8) June 2010 </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">-</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Volkswagen Bugatti Veyron in India.<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Or somewhere around June. Bugatti happens to be the world’s first car to reach crotch numbing speeds of 400kmph. And if that doesn’t hurt your nether regions, get this... this beast carries a price tag of around 8 Crore. That’s gotta pinch a little. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><b><i><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">9) Her ‘Special’</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Date<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">AKA , the recurring monthly apocalypse. Know this date dear friend. Know it well. For it could spell the difference between life and death. Laughter and tears. All functional limbs vs broken ones. It’s vital to know when you need to shut up, stay out of the way and apologise at 30 second intervals for being alive. <o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><b><i><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">10) 19th November - International Men’s</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">Day<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">You said it! We finally get our due. Women get a day. Mothers get a day. Every dog has its day. Heck, we’re pretty sure that leprechauns have a day dedicated to themselves. But finally, someone out there has recognised the work we put there to make this world a better place. Regardless of the fact that the objective of Men’s Day is to promote gender equality and men’s health, we’re interpreting it the way we want to. ‘Honey, pass me the remote please. I think my naked butt is stuck to the couch.’</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"><br /></span></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><i><span style="font-family:"Georgia","serif"; mso-fareast-Times New Roman";mso-fareast-language: EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> </span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">11) August 5</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> / Feb 9</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;"> – Underwear Day<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:36.0pt;line-height:normal"><i><span style=" font-family:"Georgia","serif";mso-fareast-Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language:EN-INfont-family:";font-size:12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#FFFFFF;">It IS a national celebrated day. Perhaps not in our country. But still. The residents of New York and Brazil think it’s pretty damn important to step out in your underwear. And who better to lead the way, than underwear models. (You’ve got to love this planet.) Now if we can just get enough of us to sign a petition to start underwear day right here. </span><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-48851261479471235562008-11-23T07:06:00.000-08:002008-11-23T07:15:58.805-08:00Have a happy period! :-)Notice the smiley. It signifies happy times. All because of a super absorbent sanitary pad.<br /><br />Alright, a quick explanation. There’s a brand of sanitary pads called Whisper. Their new line of communication ends with “Have a happy period!”<br /><br />It is definitely not a woman who has written the line. Because, if it were, she would have known that IT IS NEVER HAPPY.<br />Nothing will ever make it happy.<br /><br />I’m not going to pretend that I know a lot about a woman’s periods, but I know enough to dispense information to lesser mortals.<br />1) Don’t attempt to make it right. There is nothing to make right. Therefore you can’t make it right. Get my drift?<br /><br />2) Be nice. But not too nice. And don’t be unsympathetic either. Don’t disappear thinking that if you’re out of the way you’re making things better. I’ve got a rhyme here to help you out if you’re confused.<br /><em>Roses are red<br />Violets are blue<br />Don’t think a knock to the nuts is pain, that’s not real pain, you’ll never know this kind of pain you sissy boy, so don’t say or do anything unless you’re asked to.<br /></em>Memorise that, and you’re good to go.<br /><br />3) Reference. Never refer to it as “it” or “that time”. I gotten into serious trouble for saying things like <em>“Is it over yet?”</em> As if it were a bad movie. Other things you should avoid saying are<br /><em>“So whatcha saying is… no nookie tonight?”<br />“ I’ll come back in a couple of days when the real you is back.”<br />“The ad said that if you used one of these you could run the marathon. Why arn;t you running any marathons?”</em><br /><br />4) If she starts crying, it’s either because her hormones are gone out of whack, or she’s experiencing pain equivalent to poking needles through your spine. Hence it might be prudent not to talk about your own suffering during this time.<br />For example, don’t come home and say “<em>I got this paper cut today and maaaaan… it hurt sooooo bad.”</em> Unless a truck ran over you, followed by a steam roller, and then a marching band, keep it to yourself. Else, trust me, that’s when you’re going to feel Real Pain.<br /><br />And lastly, women, you’ve got to let us know what we should be doing, because, in all honesty, we’re clueless. A period, according to us, is this thing --> <span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><strong>.</strong></span> </span><br />A little education, suggestions on what to do, a list of what not to do, and I think we’ll be one step closer to the illusory happiness that 'they' keeps talking about.<br /><br />Comments anybody?<br /><br /><br />JonathanJonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-10448783959593782322008-05-22T11:35:00.000-07:002008-05-22T22:16:33.589-07:00Enlarge your twinkie 100$<p>Spammers are starting to lose it.<br />Just last week I got a mail asking me to increase my mortgage by two inches.<br />What exactly are these guys trying to accomplish by sending us this crap?<br />I got a bit curious and actually went through my spam messages.<br />What I found was a goldmine!<br />If you’re ever having a bad day at work, or you’re bored, or you need to do weird things to your manhood / womanhood, CHECK YOUR SPAM.<br />Collated a few here and interpreted them so you don’t have to run the risk of opening your own spam.<br />By the way, I haven’t made up these SPAM titles. They’re all real.<br />Get ready – this shit’s funny.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Stir up a passion in her heart with your magic wand.</span></strong><br />There’s a small flaw here. You can’t really stir with a wand. You can make a bunny appear though, but I don’t think bunnies can help you out it bed. What they should have said is stir up a passion in her heart with your magic wooden ladle. </p><p><br /><span style="color:#000066;"><strong><span style="color:#330099;">Huge love maker has become unbelievably real!</span></strong><br /></span>These guys are working under the assumption that it wasn’t real before. I have no genitals. My office will not have a problem with me playing with myself at my desk. Because, hey, it ain’t real! </p><p><br /><strong><span style="color:#330099;">Dont waste your life with your right hand.</span></strong><br />What do you mean? My right hand is not trust worthy? It’s the good-for-nothing hand. The one that my mother warned me about? I can’t really walk out on my hand can I? Sure ol’ ‘lefty will always be by my side. But righty has been there through good times and bad. You’re not so bad dude. </p><p><br /><span style="color:#330099;"><strong>Supersize your little babymaker!</strong></span><br />What? Do they have a camera in my house? Why is EVERYONE calling it little? What I like about it though, is the reference to burgers at a fastfood joint. Supersize it. With fries and a large coke please. And take-away please, got to make me some babies with me right hand. </p><p><br /><span style="color:#330099;"><strong>Enlarge your PE and your mind will follow!</strong></span><br />Hmmmm… PE. What could that be? Enlarge your perimeter?<br />Enlarge your Penguin? (Do we have penguins on this side of the world?)<br />Enlarge your Pentagram? (in case you’ve inducted more people in your devil worshipping group)<br />Enlarge your Peanuts.<br />I’m going with peanuts. Because, hey, nobody likes small peanuts and small minds.<br /><strong><br /><span style="color:#330099;">Your new baby-maker scores more!</span><br /></strong>Now it’s getting a wee bit confusing. First they say it’s imaginary. Now they’re telling me that ‘he’s’ playing a game down there. And something that they’re offering is going to help him win apparently. Don’t get me wrong. I want him to win. I just like to know what the game is. Volleyball is a definite no-no. </p><p><br />You guys got anymore? I’d love to see them. Just check your spam and paste them here. Ciao for now.<br />By the way, winner of the cowboy country contest was Alicia Colaco. Beer coming your way. </p>Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-66111295643730647012007-12-04T10:26:00.000-08:002007-12-04T10:31:38.793-08:00The Monk Moved Your Cheese<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">The hot shot Ferrari driving sonofagun stole it and sold it to the motor cycle repairman (some people like to call him a mechanic).<br />The motorcycle repairman, who of course, is a part time alchemist, turns the cheese into rum and coke. Because, hey, that’s the way he rolls ok?<br />I’m trying to make a point here. It’s just that I hate getting straight to it, because that takes the fun out of everything.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />People are making money. Tons of it by writing self-help, spiritual books which are convoluted and which everyone claims to understand. And there’s no way I’m going to be left behind. So here’s a little preview of my book titled (drum roll please) “<strong>Stop touching yourself. Is that chocolate cake? And, giving yourself an enema, blindfolded – <em>A guide to a better life</em>”. <br /></strong><br />People will nod their heads in agreement. “Yes, that’s the book for me. Paulo was getting so literal.”<br /><br />My book is going to be simple. To the point. And totally unrelated. Leave anything vague enough, and there are enough suckers out there to make sense of it.<br /><br />For Example, there will be an FAQ page.<br /><strong>Problem:</strong> In an effort to try and please everyone, I find myself in situations where I just can’t say NO to people. This results in me being unhappy, stressed and with no time to myself”<br /><strong>Solution:</strong> Read the book, ‘Who moved my cheese?’ Substitute the word cheese with Beer. The fact that someone is moving your beer will get you pissed enough to beat the crap out of the next person who asks you for a favour. Also, the eagle that flies west is never around for thanks-giving.<br /><br />See how I covered all bases there? If someone happens to sue me for wrongful advice, I can always say, Hey… didn’t I tell you about the eagle. Then I’ll do my evil laugh. Mooohahahahaha. Sometimes mistaken for a cow mating call, but that’s beside the point. <br /><br />Somewhere in the middle I will break off into an analogical story. Monks, cheese, mice, alchemists, mechanics have already been taken. I’ve done some quick research ran a few numbers (always wanted to say that) and found out that the character that people are most likely to relate to, is a one-eyed, one legged pirate named Plank. First name Wokda.<br />The story HAS to relate to life, otherwise it’s just going to sound like one of em wannabe writers, busy blogging their frustrations out. You know the kind.<br /><br />Anyway, the story will go something like this.<br />There’s this pirate. Wokda Plank. Who had a parrot called Polishi. Second name Tincrackers.<br />And this parrot had Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Which totally ruined the pirates clothes that he took the trouble to launder after every pilferage. But the pirate had patience. Oh boy he had patience. He warned the parrot once. Twice. Thrice. Each time thinking that the parrot will soon learn. But it was not to be.<br />Easter came. And Polishi squawked his last. Captain Wokda missed his tasty friend dearly, but what had to be done… had to be done.<br />What I am trying to say is, friends, aren’t we really all like that pirate?<br />Lost. Lonely. Emotionally handicapped. And with friends that have gas problems?<br />It’s really up to us to be in charge of our own lives. The only person that can make a difference to you , is you.<br />You don’t need to get your cheese back. Life may be a rat race, but screw the cheese. Find another food group. Don’t let monks intimidate you. Go out and find other wannabe monks who are selling their cars for a song. That way you can own a Ferrari and everybody goes home happy.<br />You decide how you can make YOUR life. Don’t let anybody else tell you how.<br /><br />What do you think? Send me a cheque for 1000 bucks and I’ll courier you the whole book. Including the title and last page. First 5 customers will get a free CD – “<strong><em>Greatest *cough* Spaced Out *cough* Covers of the Millennium”</em></strong> including such hits like Annie’s Bong and Weed are the Champions.<br />Hurry! </span>Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-85043947767674996112007-11-20T20:53:00.000-08:002007-11-20T23:00:15.174-08:00Man on the prowl: Men travellers and what they're looking for – in a woman.I sit alone at a bar in Ko Samui, Bangkok. The bar is quite crowded, as it should be at this time of the year. But I choose to wait for the ‘right’ company. Ten minutes later a gorgeous girl brushes past me and the rest of the mob, trying to get to the bar table.<br />Ahh, she wants me. That’s the sign. It has to be.<br />On her way back I ask her if I can buy a drink.<br />No. <em>(she wants me to play hard to get)<br /></em>Would she like to sit by me for a while.<br />No. <em>(She’s faltering, I can sense it)</em><br />Could I have her number?<br />No. And leave me alone, freak of nature, I’m with someone. <em>(I can see her lips moving. But like a badly dubbed Chinese movie, all I can hear is “Ask me again and I might say yes!”)<br /></em>3:00 am and eight martinis down, my hopes aren’t the only thing that are high.<br />Two hours later, I’m wondering why she led me on if she didn’t want to take it further. Women!<br /><br />Ok ladies, there’s something you have to know about men.<br /><strong>We have a diminished understanding of what we look like and how charming we are. This lack of understanding is heightened outside our familiarity zone.<br /></strong>We take a small trip out of the city, and we’re hit by the James Bond Syndrome.<br />We become the kings of smooth pick up lines, and we assume women can’t escape the enigmatic charm. I think this is because we are at a place where people don’t know that we aren’t the studly studs we make out to be. For a short while we can assume an identity of someone with confidence and pizzazz.<br /><br />There’s another thing you should know about us. Ask any man, and you will find that a large number of actions fall into the purview of flirting which you might not know about. Like breathing. Or walking into a club. That’s flirting according to us.<br /><strong>On a serious note though, you can trust us to misconstrue pretty much any look or movement.</strong> You could have a weak bladder and be looking for the little ladies room. Eye contact with any male in the room at this time will be misunderstood.<br />He’s not reading a face that says – Damn my weak bladder.<br />What he’s reading is – <em>Come hither Tarzan.<br /></em><br /><strong>As progressive as our society claims to be, we don’t see too many women that drink or smoke in public.</strong> It’s frowned upon. If I see a woman lighting one up, it’s going to have my antennae up. “<em>She smokes! Who knows what else she’ll do? Maybe she’s one of those naughty girls that will give me a back rub. I’m going over and saying hi.”<br /></em><br /><strong>Any show of skin just gives us another reason to target you</strong>. You may underestimate the level of desperation if you think that knuckles and toes are excluded. Increase the percentage of skin showing, courtesy short skirts or off-shoulders and more men will come up to you. In this particular case, even sitting with company will not deter us.<br /><br />Going up and coming on to women whilst traveling is much easier because there’s no fear of failing. We don’t see the harm is falling flat on our faces, because <strong>you don’t know us. Or anyone we know. </strong>And hopefully nobody those people know. The news can’t spread. Safe to say, Bond can show his face in public again.<br /><br />What’s it boils down to is, when traveling, reality gets warped. Confidence gets a boost. Libido goes up. Logic comes down. Rules don’t apply. We’ve not only taken a trip away from home, but also from all the rules and realities that bind that life.<br />You can travel in packs, dress however you want, and try to avoid making eye contact. But the man traveler is on the prowl, and he has packing some pretty lousy pick up lines.<br />Beware.<br /><br /><em>Note: I have bever been to ko samui. I have never walked up to strange women soliciting my sexual abilities. I have not hit on my colleagues. I am a nice boy (feel free to read as whipped) who has not and will not fall of the 'committed' wagon.</em>Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-83347048879689598482007-11-01T21:46:00.000-07:002007-11-01T21:50:36.291-07:00Why Do men like violent movies?<em><span style="color:#3366ff;"> (This is something I wrote for femina a couple of months back)</span></em><br /><br />I sit there wide eyed as Arnold Swazewazizname blows a hole through the head of his evil nemesis in Terminator 2. He doesn’t die of course because his body parts are of liquid metal.<br />My better half looks on with her mouth agape. First at the screen, then at me. And I’ve known her long enough to hear her thoughts.<br /><br />“Why the hell do you like this insane movie? And if you manage to answer that, then kindly tell again why I’m with you! I keep forgetting.”<br /><br />I don’t really want to take my eyes off the screen, so I try and answer telepathically too. Apparently I have not perfected the art.<br /><br />It is only at the end of the movie I realize that the better half had walked out shortly after intermission. It’s because of nights like these that I’ve been well acquainted with the sofa.<br />To cut a long story short, I thought the movie was nothing short of brilliant.<br /><br />She didn’t.<br /><br />All the guys I know love it too. It’s a classic.<br />Women think it’s too graphic and takes violence to a whole new level of insanity.<br />Whaaaaat? Do you think the robots should have sat down over coffee and settled it amicably? Yeah, he’ll stop trying to kill you if you give him a good telling off.<br />And it’s not just this movie. I’ve had debates with women about several such ‘artful’ movies.<br />What it boils down to is that men like violent flicks. Women don’t.<br /><br />Why?<br /><br />I’ll tell you why.<br /><em><span style="color:#3366ff;">(cue ambient music please)</span></em><br /><br />A couple of thousand years ago before language was invented and when dinosaurs weren’t just a couple of bones super glued together at a museum, men and women had distinct roles.<br />Yes, yes, we all know this part. Men were the food gatherers. The hunters and the providers.<br />Women, stayed indoors to look after the kids and, in the absence of inane soap operas about satanic mother-in-laws, did other house-hold chores. Some even dabbled in the arts. That’s where you get cave drawings and hieroglyphics from.<br /><br />Coming back to the point, men were close to the action. Hunting wild boar, steering clear of vicious lions and bringing down woolly mammoths. Stuff that got the adrenaline pumping and the bones a-breaking.<br /><br />Now fast forward to a couple of thousand years ahead. The closest we get to hunting is tracking down a mosquito that’s buzzing around your ear at 3 a.m in the morning.<br />We miss the good stuff.<br />The testosterone heavy, action packed activity that’s been instilled in our blood.<br />So who do we turn to for help.<br />You know it - good ole movies. <br />And not just any movies. Violent ones.<br /><br />Give us car crashes. Men shooting at men. Men shooting at aliens. Men shooting at aliens while crashing their cars. Killer cyborgs with catchy lines. Computers that use humans as AA batteries. Zombies that have teamed up with aliens to crash all the cars on the planet.<br />It’s all good to us.<br /><br />Women don’t seem to understand this need. They’ll be dragging us to movies about a book store owner that falls in love with an actress. Or a prostitute that falls in love with a millionaire.<br />Do they have the expertise to crash a four wheel drive?<br />Have they been keeping up with recent UFO sightings?<br />Nooooooo. Because they’re too busy falling in love, out of love and back again.<br />Well , Whoop-di-doo! Never saw that coming did we?<br /><br />All we need is a bit of action with a semi-decent plot. Safe to say that we’re flexible on the plot part too.<br /><br />And don’t you think that the gore, explosions, occasional sex scene and fighting isn’t integral to the movie. You might question it, but we’re pretty sure it’s justified. <br /><br />“<strong><em>Why does a respectable man with a doctorate eat people, and in the most gruesome fashion?”,</em></strong> you might ask.<br />C’mon…everyone is allowed to get hungry. He just ate what was closest to him - his friends. Give him a break.<br /><br /><br /><strong><em>“What are the chances of the helicopter crashing into a highly flammable LPG tanker which flips over a couple of times landing close to a petrol pump before exploding?”<br /></em></strong>I’m come up with a fail-proof formula to calculate the probability of the occurrence.<br />(N+1)p-3 . N being the number of helicopters in the world. And p being another fancy letter that I had to put up there to sound authentic.<br />The answer I came up with is - Pretty good.<br /><br /><br /><strong><em>“Why doesn’t she just kill her counterpart straight off. Why does she need to gouge her eye our and leave a deadly snake lying around to eventually bite the bejeezes out of her?”</em></strong><br />Any violence aficionado knows that it’s a metaphor. What the director is trying to communicate is that the world has turned a blind eye to… errr… reptile conservation.<br />Yes, because we love them reptiles. (Snakes are reptiles right?)<br /><br />One might also tend to believe that men have been conditioned by society to watch and enjoy violent movies.<br />We’re not. Trust me, it’s inherent.<br />Let’s say you have kids. A pair of twins. Give the boy a Barbie and the girl a toy truck. Odds are the boy will be ripping her head apart, maybe using the torso as a plane, whilst the girl has already painted here SUV with soft pink polka dots and invited it to her tea party.<br /><br />Oh, stop complaining. You’ll be thanking us someday for the screen-attained knowledge. It’s only because of these kinds of violent movies that I have a plan, if, heaven forbid, disaster is eminent.<br />When monsters of the netherworld are near, if a killer in a hockey mask is on the loose, if a gun wielding mob has blocked the road, I know exactly what to do.<br /><br />Run.<br />Scream like a little girl and run like crazy.<br /><br />While you might have been keeping a close eye on the hero of the movie, I’ve been watching the tiny vanishing dot in the background. The extra who decided not to risk his unmentionables in the battle to save the earth. The one who left unscathed.<br />I am that man.<br />He who lived to tell the tale.<br />And all those who follow suit, are gonna be thanking their lucky stars that I’ve been well informed through the magic of cinema.<br />And what are the chances of that happening?<br />Pretty good.Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-63667912643737232442007-07-03T10:08:00.001-07:002008-12-12T22:32:23.717-08:00Lucy in the sky<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TpWBi3QyN5E/RoqEWiGbwGI/AAAAAAAAAEc/L0G2C4ZgkD4/s1600-h/lucy+in+the+sky.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083020652086804578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_TpWBi3QyN5E/RoqEWiGbwGI/AAAAAAAAAEc/L0G2C4ZgkD4/s320/lucy+in+the+sky.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Probably my Magnum Opus.<br />By now you guys already know that that's a dog and not a rat.<br />The white ones are sheep.<br />Thats\'s a plane with some crows in the sky. So no more stupid questions!<br /><br />I've introduced a crab called Herby here and the fish - Cajmero - has made it's second appearence.<br /><br />Any other questions? Compliments perhaps? HUh?<br /><br />JONATHAN</div>Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-1174897820819687902007-03-26T02:27:00.000-07:002007-03-26T02:32:33.670-07:00Parlez Freakin Vous AngaliseWho makes words?<br /><br />At first glance it sounds like a ridiculous question. <br /><br />At second glance, it still sounds the same. And to some of my stubborn friends, it runs well into the sixteenth and seventeenth glance. <br /><br />But seriously, who invents words? Who said "let 'to be' be a verb! Let this thing that makes funny sounds be called a piano. And this thing that awkwardly juts out of my body be called a… a nose!" <br /><br />Who is this all knowing authority?<br />I say we put our feet down. Let's question everything. Let's make our own rules. <br />Let's chant loudly - <em><strong>DOWN WITH THE ESTABLISHMENT</strong></em>.<br />And if you're reading this at WORK, let's whisper it.<br /><br />In my endeavor to create a new world 'of the people and by the people', I've decided to replace some words in the English language, evolve my own meaning of words, and pretty much create my own words. This is a democracy of course. So, let me know what you think. <br />And I'll let you know where you can 'PUT' your thoughts. <br /><br />Let's begin.<br /><br />The wind instrument <strong>Tuba</strong> will no longer be called tuba, but will be replaced by the word <strong>Flatula</strong>. The noises are the same, I think the word fits.<br /><br />The female mammary glands will no longer be called <strong>breasts</strong>. Instead, I've come up with (drum roll please) ' <strong>Thingamajigglelots</strong>"<br /><br />The male organ will hence be known as <strong>pokeyhontas</strong>. <br /> <br /><strong><br />Diamonds</strong> will simply be spelt differently to connote what they actually mean. <strong>DieMen</strong>. <br />Since they kill them financially. <br /><br /><strong>Flowers</strong> will be known by their scientific name from now on - <strong>Sorry Facilitators</strong>. All of them will be from the some genus – <strong>Fergotyorbuday Heressum Prettytree</strong><br /><br />The word <strong>Pornography</strong>, for reasons unbeknownst to me, has been associated with something wrong. I figure it's purely educational, and hence its new name can either be – <strong>Howdeydoodat</strong> or <strong>Wheredeyputdat</strong>. <br />Unless you have something better of course. <br /><br /><strong>Politics</strong>. <strong>Poly</strong> meaning many and <strong>Tics</strong> meaning blood sucking insects. In all honesty, it's not fairs to the tics. Or any breathing creature for that matter to be compared to a politician. So I'm a bit stumped here. Anyone have a suggestion? Poly_______? <br /> <br /><br />And if you have anymore words that you want to add to Jon's Dictionary, do write in and we'll stick it to the establishment. <br /><br />Ciao for now.Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-1168946646400612562007-01-16T03:20:00.000-08:002007-01-16T03:24:06.410-08:00WHY?<span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Question everything.<br />That’s what they told me. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing all my life.<br />Truth 1: There is no ‘they’.<br />Truth 2: If there was a ‘they’, they wouldn’t speak to me. Even my ‘inside voices’ have to be bribed to carry on some casual banter.<br />Truth 3: That’s not <strong><em>exactly </em></strong>what I’ve been doing my whole life. There has been a sizeable amount of drinking, sleeping, bad punning, pretending to exercise, nose picking and something that vaguely resembles the birdie dance.<br /><br />Here we go. Some things to ponder about.<br />WHY?<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Q1) Why is heavy metal called metal? Or Rock called Rock. And people have gone so far as to determine the texture of the said rock, as in – Hard Rock &Soft Rock?<br /></em></strong>Well, I have, in my spare time, hypothesized on this question and came to this conclusion - Hypothesize is a pretty big word to connote postulate. Postulate is pretty nasty as well.<br />Back to the point. I postulated that the roots of rock can be traced back to the stone age. Stone Age – Rock? Get it?<br />The earliest band, I’ve concluded, were Guns & Moses and Def Shepherd.<br /><br /><strong><em>Q2) Why do people wear clothes?</em></strong><br /> Seriously. Adam and Eve went on fine. Then they ate the fruit and they were “ashamed” of their nakedness.<br />Why? There was no one to compare themselves with. For all Eve knew, he was ALL MAN. Even when it was cold. And Eve was the hottest thing ever!<br />My conclusion. There was no excitement. If you’re naked all the time, there’s nothing to fantasize about. You’ve revealed the plot and now nobody wants to watch the movie.<br />Suddenly, here a fig leaf. There a fig leaf, and voila! Hot Pants.<br />Adam- some leather here and there and…. Whoa there cowboy. Looking plenty good!<br />Eh? We on a roll now.<br /><br /><strong><em>Q3) Why did the turtle win the race?</em></strong><br />Why did he? Was it because the rabbit tripped over the chicken that was crossing the road?<br />What are we teaching our kids? That it’s okay be a slow poke?<br />Shouldn’t we be realistic and let the rabbit win once in a while?<br />This is what I have to say:</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />½ tblspn salt<br />A pinch of oregano.<br />Some tobasco sauce.<br />Curd and a few spices that I can never remember but are small and look like twigs.<br />1 tasty rabbit / Turtle / any other fairytale animal.<br /><br />Method: Roast tasty animal till no hint of fairytale exists. Mix in the other stuff and baste on the animal. Have with generous doses of alcohol.<br /><br />I had more questions, but after that impromptu recipe, I got kindda hungry. If you guys have any questions avec the answers, do write in.</span></span><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Ciao for now and all that jazz and stuff. </span>Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-1166204342515179532006-12-15T09:18:00.000-08:002006-12-15T09:39:02.603-08:00TaggedIz... stop smoking up!<br />Ok guys... she's 'tagged' me. And i've got to divulge 5 things about myself that people don't know.<br />So here goes.<br />1) I used to like the macarena, some songs from Aqua (yeah the barbie girl people) and even one song from Jessica Simpson called public affair. I hope I don't go to cool people's jail for this.<br /><br />2) I HAVE to sleep on the right side of the bed. Or on the side that's not against the wall. Toss and turn for 15 minutes trying to find my position and end up on my side.<br /><br />3) I'm a wimp when it comes to extreme sports/ events. Can't do bungee jumping. Roller coasters. And yeah, the most terryfing of em all. The Giant Wheel. I just can't take it. I like my legs on the ground. Not forming a bow around my neck.<br /><br />4) To all my Indian friends - this is a biggie. I haven't watched Sholay.<br /><br />5) This is a slightly embarassing one. Even though i'm from Goa - I can;t hold my liqour. 3 drinks Max. Then the loud off key singing. Then the 'not related to the conversation' insults. And then my hands start cramping.<br /><br />The few people that actually read my blog are already tagged. Orange Jammies, Karen, Prashant, Prado, if you actually come back here, you're it.Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-1165136339121200062006-12-03T00:54:00.000-08:002006-12-03T01:12:07.320-08:00Are you an ISH-ER?<p><em>So I’ve quit my job.<br />And that leaves me with a lot of time to think.<br />Here’s proof that that’s not such a good thing.<br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Are You an ‘ish-er?’</span></strong><br /><br />I’ve discovered this of late whilst talking to a friend of mine. She said “I’ll meet you at Seven thirty-ish.<br />Ka-ching Ka-ching. Goldmine on the loose. And I found it!<br /><br />Seven thirty-ish. What does that mean?<br />7:31?<br />7:29?<br />7:50?<br />It’s open to interpretation. And here’s the good part. We can customize ISH to fit (read as ‘get out of’) any situation.<br /><br />I’ll show you how.<br /><br />o Of course I love you-ish.<br />o Yes, I remembered to plug in the life support system-ish.<br />o I didn’t sleep with the white house intern-ish<br />o Yeah I know how to play the electric guitar, blindfolded, one hand tied behind my back and whipping up Duck a l’orange with the other, whilst calculating the value of pi up to 72 decimal points. Ish.<br />o Pull my finger. I promise I won’t fart - ish.<br />o I love your cooking! Just like my mom’s. – ish<br />o No I don’t think you’re psychotic-ish.<br />o Yes Jonathan – I love your blog. –ish.</em></p><p><em><br />Accomplished ishers usually disguise the ish within a cough. It’s takes a bit o practice. But you’ll get the hang of it. Let me know if you have anymore situations. Or if you’ve used ish successfully recently.<br />Now it’s time for me to take my pre lunch post early morning nap - nap. Ciao.</em></p>Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-1164609644677428162006-11-26T22:38:00.000-08:002006-11-26T22:42:20.550-08:00CinemagicIt’s like all the scriptwriters refer to the same book. Look up some formulae, put some of them together and voila. A movie.<br />Uno Problemo.<br />Too many scriptwriters, too few formulae.<br />Hence ladies and gentlemen, the origin of clichés.<br />I’ve documented some of these & titled them for your reading pleasure.<br /><br /><strong>1) Dead Funny Guy</strong><br />The comic relief in the horror/thriller movie has to die. Being a pseudo funny guy myself, I find this unfair. I hear ‘we’ don’t even get paid much. ‘You’ guys totally take us for granted and I’m calling for a strike of all funny people. Ok, back to the titles.<br /><br /><strong>2) Dead Daddy Cop</strong><br />Any cop, especially a retired one pulling out a photograph from his wallet that oh so lovingly portrays his wife and kids will be dead in the next 15 minutes. His partner of course will then get some nookie and later on avenge his death. Oh yeah, throw in an incompatible new partner for good measure.<br /><br /><strong>3) Friggin Peekaboo Kitty</strong><br />This one really bugs me. Horror / Thriller movies. Against all logic and reason, the soon-to-be-dead-person decides to SLOWLY look under the bed or in the closet.<br />Looking slowly… slowly… slooowlyy. Kapow! Kitty appears, brandishing her claws and meowing a lot.<br />Damn you kitty. Shouldn’t you be out getting some with the neighbour’s cat? Get a life. Or 9 of them.<br /><br /><strong>4) I know how you died last summer</strong><br />When the antagonist goes down, it has to be big. And you’ll know how it happens before it actually does.<br />If there’s a sharp object in the vicinity, he will get impaled on it.<br />If they’re on a building, he will fall off it<br />Budget permitting he will fall through a glass house, into a swimming pool.<br />Stricter budgets dictate that he will fall on a parked car.<br />If he’s a specialist at something, he will die at his own game. Evil bomb specialists will be bombed to glory. And killers with hockey masks will be beaten really badly at hockey and hence die of shame.<br /><br /><strong>5) Blabbermouth Baddie</strong><br />And oldie but goodie.<br />Tie up the good guy… but don’t kill him. That ain’t fun.<br />And besides, only 5 minutes of the movie are up.<br />So you tie him, devise a series of linked operations that will kill him eventually. But before that – reveal your evil plot.<br />Eg: Baddie ties goodie to a chair. Next to him a candle slowly burns a rope. When the rope burns, it releases an anvil that falls down on a small catapult that launches a knife into the air and cuts off the phone wire. Good guy’s mom walks in a week later and kills him herself for not calling her to find out how she is.<br />But BEFORE all that baddie says “ So Bruce, you thought you could catch me. Well, much before you die, I’m gonna kidnap the funny guy in this movie and kill him. Because hey, I hate funny guys. He’s gonna be home right now updating his blog, and I’ll sneak in through the window at 11:23 pm and poison his stash of Goan sausages in the fridge.”<br />Man, I love goan sausages. Mmmmmmm.<br /><br /><strong>6) I’m so hot and there’s no one around to see it.</strong><br />Hotties wearing skimpy outfits will travel in trains that will be devoid of an other passengers. Incredible as it is, just that one hottie is traveling. If it’s in a city, she will choose to walk down a deserted alley.<br />Better still, she will choose the shortcut through the park at 3 in the morning.<br />Why I ask you. You’ve gone through the trouble of swearing practically nothing. Move around places where there are tons of guys! Specifically - soon to be dead funny guys.<br /><br />Have anymore, write in.<br />Ciao for now and all that jazz and stuff.Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-1163832165915465292006-11-17T22:40:00.000-08:002006-11-17T22:42:45.923-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3755/3908/1600/stickup.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3755/3908/320/stickup.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It's a rhino by the way. And, I tried to get a little more realistic with the sun this time.Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-1163496908464224922006-11-14T01:30:00.000-08:002006-11-14T01:35:08.473-08:00Sing Song SucksHello People,<br />It's been some time since I've tortured you with my seemingly endless source of crap.<br />Been busy quitting my job. Yes, it’s a process.<br />Anyway, here we go again. Have any of you guys actually heard the words of the songs that you listen to?<br />Well, yesterday as I sat doing my nails, perming my hair and laying out my underwear for the week… I heard this song by someone who goes by the name of Ricky Martin.<br />And he was singing a song called <strong><em>Shake your Bon Bons</em></strong>.<br />Question.<br />What are Bon Bons? Does everybody have a bon bon. Is that a good thing? Is it a gender oriented thingy? I'm pretty sure I don't have a bon bon.<br />If I did.. I wouldn't call it a bon bon anyway. It's too panzy-ish.<br />How about that Michael Bolten chappy <strong><em>-"Can I touch you there."</em></strong><br />Where Mikey? Please tell us... . If you're referring to my bons bons - the answer is NO WAY HOSEY!Besides... i'm too busy shaking them to kingdom come. Oh Oh.. .and can someone please tell me what the lil boy is saying when he sings.. "<strong><em>You say it best when you say nothing at all."</em></strong><br />Isn't that an insult? Isn't he saying… I love it when you shut up coz the birds come out to sing and the sun shines brighter?<br />Perhaps they’re all metaphors.<br />Like <strong>2 steps behind</strong> - written by the stalker.<br /><strong>Annies Song</strong> – written by the alcoholic<br /><strong>Janie’s got a gun</strong> – by the jealous transvestite<br />Anyone got anymore? Oh.. and please do write in if you figure out what bon bons are.<br />Ciao.Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35171683.post-1162786709383378392006-11-05T20:14:00.000-08:002006-11-05T20:18:29.393-08:00<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3755/3908/1600/nothingspecialjpg.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3755/3908/320/nothingspecialjpg.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />No, i'm not obsessed with animals doing it. No, those arn't cows udders, it's the sun. And NO, those arn't rats. They're doggies. German shephards actually. Yeah... a yellow one and a purple one.Jonathanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12111946974789095567noreply@blogger.com6