Friday 8 October 2010

crabbydad - Lo, I Have Smelled The Face of Death...

 

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Lo, I Have Smelled The Face of Death...

Have I mentioned lately how fucking disgusting men are. Wait, let me clarify -- not all men... just all men besides me.

Example 4937:

So, I'm at the gym, drying off after a shower in the seemingly non-disgusting shower area which is, in fact, probably exponentially more disgusting than I can possibly imagine, and I see this dude, unclad, walk into the crapper stall. Okay, fine, people need to shit. I get it. Unfortunately, said stall is a mere five feet from my locker and I KNOW this dude's gonna be causing some serious heinousness.

I walk over to my locker, flip-flops glued to my feet because who knows what sort of primordial, fecal-pee-jizz excreta soups is puddling on the tiles, and proceed to get dressed as quickly as possible before the onslaught begins. Well, no sooner do I open the locker door than the dude unleashes an ass-fury of biblical proportions. It was truly horrific -- ripping, tearing, splattering -- it was like the dude was stabbing a white-water raft filled with pressurized pudding. I had my head turned away and my eyes clamped shut because I was convinced that if I looked toward the horror, my face would've done the Indiana Jones nazi face-melt.

And, mind you, I'm no shit-prude -- if you'll recall, I put funny fart sound effects into video games for a living so I can appreciate the humor in a good colonic assplosion. But, no, there was nothing funny about this atrocity.

And let me just step aside here and say that this is the main reason I don't eat red meat anymore. It's really not about not eating mammals. It's not about saving the environment or my arteries. It's because I know that, yesterday, this dude probably snarfed down two sausage McMuffins for breakfast, probably had some sort of meat sandwich for lunch and inhaled some fucking ribs for dinner and THAT'S why his ass is detonating. Non meat-eaters just do NOT shit like that, lemme tell ya. I haven't made noises like that since the early 90s, when I used to suck down four McDonald's cheese burgers at a sitting. Beans, noodles and tempeh simply cannot cause that sort of destruction.

Anywhich, at this point I was just trying to get my clothes on as fast as possible so I could escape this rectal hell-mouth without all of my body hair getting completely seared off. That's when I heard it. The sound of the toilet paper roll being unfurled. I figured this dude was gonna have to use at least three full rolls, double-ply, to even put a dent in the chaos he had created in there but all I heard was one squeak of the roll, a tear and then... flush.

Are you shitting me?! A one wiper?! There's no fucking way. This dude had to have looked like Augustus Gloop AFTER he got stuck in the chocolate river tube in there and he's pulling off a one-wiper?! At the very least, he was going to need a hazmat team with pressurized hoses and industrial-strength detergents working around the clock for days to rectify his situation. But then the lock turned and the stall door began to open. I turned away because I knew I my stomach couldn't handle the fecal greaseball that was about to exit the crime scene...

And out he strutted. Out of the stall, past the lockers, past my horrified grimace and... into the goddamn showers.

I swear, I'm buying myself a pair of hip-waders.


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Thursday 23 September 2010

crabbydad - Kickin' It, Miss O Style...

 

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Kickin' It, Miss O Style...

I know this is wrong and, as an adult, I should exhibit more self-control but I can't help myself when Miss O kicks some little kid ass.





I was seated in one of the cruel chairs at Miss O's Tae Kwon Do dojang (Korean for "run-down strip mall taekwondo* school"), reading the latest Franzen novel that I'm not sure if I like yet, when they announced that it was time for sparring. I used to get all anxious during sparring because I was afraid one of the goon-y spazmo fucks was gonna kick Miss O in the face and break her nose... and her $400 glasses.

But sometime over the summer, she became badass. I think it was after a pep talk I gave where I reminded her that she's wearing well over $100 worth of sparring gear for a reason -- so she can kick and punch and hard as she fucking wants without hurting anyone. Something clicked that day and she proceeded to kick the snot out of some innocent, pony-tailed brown belt. And she never looked back.

Anywhich, today, when they announced sparring, she seemed a little tired and distracted, so I strapped her into her little padded suit and planted a light punch on the big red dot on her chest protector, just to snap her out of it a bit. She gave me a "what the shit?!" look and then socked me in the forehead.

She was ready.

When I saw that she was being paired with a crew-cutted shit who appeared to be a year or two older than she, I wasn't exactly thrilled. He had about an inch or two on her in height and reach and just seemed like he was waiting to take out his daily parental whupppins on someone else. But I should've never doubted her.

Master S. gave them the "Go!" sign and, in the blink of an eye, Miss O unleashed a flurry of brutal kicks and punches that had the kid flailing backward until he slammed into the big padded pole in the middle of the room and then bit it... hard. The ref helped him up, made sure he wasn't too severely brain-damaged, and then gave him a few pointers about keeping his guard up. But words cannot stop the force that is Tae Kwon O!

She waited for him to regain what little composure he had left and then she unleashed her fury, once again. Left kick/right kick/right kick/fist/fist/FIST and BOOM! Back down he went, slapping the mat like a wet yak liver being whacked against Christina Ricci's forehead.

Of course, throughout the carnage, I kept catching myself smiling like a mofo, and I had to keep lifting my giant Franzen tome in front of my face to hide my giddiness. I couldn't figure which of the other adults were this poor punching bag's parents, so I tried my best to disguise my glee but it wasn't easy. This was better than the Thrilla in Manila. It was the De-pantsing in Lansing.

And then it was over. They bowed at each other, shook hands and took their seats against the wall. But not before Miss O glanced over at me, peeking out through her headgear with a look that said, "THAT'S what little girls are made of." I gave her a big thumbs up and then she ran over to the wall and took a seat, smiling.

Sugar and spice, my ass.

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Tuesday 21 September 2010

crabbydad - How to Raise a Stooge...

 

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How to Raise a Stooge...

ME: Why don't you eat over your bowl?! You're eating that ice cream like a total slob...





MISS O: Hey, I resemble that remark!



And I can check that one off the list. My work here is almost done...

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Thursday 16 September 2010

crabbydad - Is This Thing Still on?

 

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Is This Thing Still on?

MR. Z: You know what? I really like getting hugged by girls.





ME: Oh yeah?

MR. Z: Definitely. I got hugged by like five girls today.

ME: Five?! Wow. Wait... they hugged you, not the other way around, right?

MR. Z: Totally. I'm not "that guy."

ME: That's my boy.

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Tuesday 30 March 2010

crabbydad - Another Thing I Have No Time for...

 

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Another Thing I Have No Time for...

I have a new favorite thing. It's called "Xtranormal" and it's this online animation/movie making app that pretty much has endless possibilities for hee-larity. Here's my first attempt (not necessarily hee-larious, yet):



Oh, the possibilities...


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