I'D LIKE TO SOLVE THE PUZZLE -- TUB. OF. WASTE.

Congratulations to Snooki "Nicole Polizzi" Italian on her pregnancy. It takes a lot of guts and a relatively healthy penis and vagina to create a baby. People Magazine just released this exclusive ultra-sound photo:

"Congrats, it's an.... entity. Awwwwwwww"

I just got back from a week in Florida visiting my future mother of laws (I got engaged in December. I put the ring around a snake, then tied the snake into a ring, then put that around my neck. She cried weird, man).

We had a great time and I didn't even get sunburned because the whole time I wore a leather cat suit with "CREAMY STUD" etched into the back. Did I wear a hat? No, I just grew my bangs out and gelled them horizontally giving me a stiff natural, that not only keeps the sun out of eyes, but also gives me something to crunch with my fingers while I'm waiting for dinner to be served.

Did you know that the elderly in Florida have their own version of Gorillaz called Gaterz, which is a collaboration between Alan Thicke and Gary Larson? It's waltz music but with a sped up, jazzy vibe performed by a band of cartoons. There's:

Soup - Frontman. A cool flamingo who spends his nights searching for cola. He's got a very deep voice.

Sand Dollar - Bass guitar. A grandson who loves his pets. Has picture of ice cream sundae on shirt.

Deep C - Guitar. A fisherman whose guitar is shaped like a lighthouse. Married to a middle-aged mermaid ghost.

Cigar Ron - Percussion. A Cuban golfer who can take his eyes out and juggle them.

Most of their songs are about beach life but sometimes they mention pools.

In reality, we lied by the pool, shopped at outlet malls, marveled at foreign products in grocery stores and watched TV with commercials we'd never seen before. Do you think when Floridians come to our part of the world, they look at maple trees the same way we look at palms? We think palms are so cool, but I think I'd take a maple over one any day, even though I'm kind of bored of them. We just like palm trees because they scream "CORONA BEER BIKINI".

COME AROUND NOON, AROUND NOON, NOON

My hand is still strapped into a piece of mold-able plastic to keep my thumb from the dangers of city life, the most hazardously being potential thumbs up to those extra grungy pigeons who look smarter than teenagers and to local celebs who want to give autographs more than the public gives shits about them. But yeah, its functionality is returning!

My typing speed is back up to 900,000 bpm, and I'm slowly integrating my injured left hand back into my shower routine, meaning shampoo is being more evenly distributed over my baby sized/baby soft head and my right pit is getting the full soaping it deserves.

What does all this add up to? The return of the Jedi, "Jedi" being my old college nickname, given to me because I always got boners when I'd speak in front of a class. I got so tired of having to explain that I was hornier than crazy, that I'd pretend I was using the force to make it rise. I was later voted "Most Likely to Explode". School daze indeed.

Okay, so we're all back. First step of a comeback -- look at what you've done previously, beat the shit out of it and then try to remember the last time you saw Suburban Commando.

I've always had a hard time trying to figure out exactly what this blog is, which would explain rampant inconsistency, mostly due to battling with my inner-monologue over what's funny and what people want to read. Since it's been five years and over 500 posts, I don't think it really matters because as far as I can tell, Steven Spielberg hasn't read any of it, and any money I make outside of work is from selling fake Kate Gosselin autographed diapers to middle-aged women who only use the Internet to check postal codes.

What does that mean for you and your family? Much of the same! With my 1st meta-carpal bone now surgically repaired, I'm free to type until I learn backgammon, then it's allllll backgammon, baby.

Before the adventure continues, I just have to re-assure myself -- was my broke-ass paw a good excuse for writing next to nothing on this world-infamous website? Two new characters answer:

Sandra No'h

No, you could still type, granny style, and your brain wasn't all that effected by the whole thing.

This is true, but every humourous thought I had ended with "...but I ain't even got the thumbs for it."

No, you could've just typed short things that kept the audience interested.

Poetry is dead!!

No, you could've made little vlogs and posted those.

Nobody likes my voice. It was once likened to that of a "pre-pubsecant cat boy who is trying to imitate his gay dad"

Malcolm "Yes"

Yes brother, do whatever you do, there are no wrong answers, only wrong people with wrong answers.

Poignant.

Life moves pretty fast; if you don't look at a bit you don't see it.

Alright.

Stalemate! Anyway, bear with me over the coming months as I re-integrate myself into cyberspace, where the stars are message boards and the planets tmz.com's. I can't promise you true happiness, but I can almost promise you that you'll never, ever barf from eating a Skor bar.

LIVE FROM NY IT'S A RAT DYING IN A BASEMENT

My hand is alllll better..........


.............if by "better" you mean "butter". My hand is all butter because to a carnivore, this thing looks, smells and no doubt tastes just as good as a bag of hot buttered kernels down at the local screens. Don't believe me? Ask this bear:

Gotta say, he's on the mark on this one. Keep in mind though, if the injured hand is like your "popcorms", then something like, say, the human ass, would be the "hot perfect beef roast", you see? Main course. Like the hand is good, but I'd rather eat your heart mixed with from-the-ground pine needles and washed down with frog-piss swamp water. Keep asking me questions though, I'm enjoying this.

We don't have time. Plus, I know it was you who took the noodles that were cooling on my windowsill. You almost ruined Chinese New Year again. We ordered pizza and my guests said "nah-uh" so I had to convince them it was Chinese by slicing it with a rollerblade. Mission accomplished, barely.

LET US DRINK TO STINK

"Did you get bitten by a baby?"
"Snap into a SlimJim, brother"
"I think it's a pig"
"My penis looks nicer"
"Is that an old man's dick?"
"A professional jerker"

That there is my hand after they took my cast off. Needless to say, it didn't work as I officially require surgery, which should turn my thumb from a zig zag to a Hitchhiker Straighty.

Those quotes are simple seasoning, you can make up your own if you're bored after dinner tonight.

Since I'll be one handed for another 6 weeks, and won't be able to type up to my usual Mavis Beacon Platinum Level IV -- Silver Eagle Cadet, posts may be few and far between.

In the meantime, I'll be live-blogging daily whenever i feel the need to communicate to another human regular. Foe example, earlier I blogged to a woman at Tim Horton's, "...the one with sausage please". Check me out offline somewhere in the GTA or in your wildest fantasies.

DUCK DUCK DUCK

THERE'S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERY STRING

In the past I've talked about how so far, in my life, I've been immune to major injuries.

No more! I broke a bone somewhere in hand thumb area while rescuing a super model from a snake man and his family. This means I can only type with one hand, which then means I don't want to type anything. In the time it took me to write this I could've been to Lime Rickey's and back, armed with an arsenal of the season's hottest salads.

I'm not going to mope, I'm going to stay positive, as represented by this info-graphic:


Yesterday, I had a thought that if the world's smartest people got together, they could trick us so bad. Chew on that and poo it out next time you need a conversation starter.

THE KEY TO HAPPINESS IS OF COURSE A BEAUTIFUL, ORNATE KEY

This is only my second post in the month of November, and you know why? That's right! I was in surgery to add an extra cage of ribs to my slender frame. First day out of the hospital I tested myself by taunting a local bully named Hot Beer, who once beat up the principal just because the principal said he liked cranberries. Anyway, the look on his face when he realized he had broke through one ribcage, only to find another was worth the three million dollars and strange shape my body now has. It's looks like I'm starving and healthy at the same time and the only shirts that fit are football jerseys. I have one for every day of the week, numbered 1-7 and each nameplate has the name of a Macaulay Culkin character. For example, today I'm wearing #3 "TYLER" jersey, after his character, Richard Tlyer, in the Source Award winning (Best Bitch '94) "The Pagemaster".

The tough thing about doing stand-up comedy, being on Twitter, writing this thing and writing other things, is that sometimes you don't know where to put an idea. Recently, I jotted down this gem, that I think will make it into the live show. Normally, I wouldn't share it until I do perform it live and no one laughs, but I'll make an exception today because I'm pretty sure only three people regularly stop by:

- peeing in someone's mouth, they go to the bathroom and spit it into the toilet

Let's shift in today's SECOND GEAR

Here's my input on the Jerry Sandusky football boy university sex scandal:

Marry/Fuck/Kill - The cast of The Flintstones.

Jerry - Marry Bamm-Bamm, Fuck Bamm-Bamm, kill uhhhh, Bamm-Bamm.
Me - You can only choose one character per action.
Jerry - Hmmm, marry that little alien boy who grants wishes and ask for Bamm-Bamm's phone number, fuck Bamm-Bamm, and killing is wrong, no comment.
Me - Just pick one
Jerry - Alright, alright, who are Bamm-Bamm's legal guardians?
Me - Barney and Betty Rubble. How do you know who Bamm-Bamm was and not those guys?
Jerry - Listen man, I dig kids.
Me - Whoa! Did you know that the Flintstone's Sabretooth tiger is named "Baby Pussy" according to Wikipedia? You wanna change your answers?
Jerry - Not unless Baby Pussy has a little brother.
Me - Gross!

Whoooooaooaoooaoaooa controversial! Let's slide into today's THIRD BASE

Comic books are very popular these days, providing source material for major motion pictures and re-igniting the imaginations of children whose brains are polluted with Internet smut, Hungry Man Dinners and female peers who start flashin' bra at age 7. As a creator of content, I gotta get in on this action. I have a mouth to feed and watches to buy, so that I'll have so many watches that someone will ask "why are you wearing so many" and I can say with a wink and nod "I got too much time on my hands". Here's my pitch:

Our Hero - "Excellent Dude" - a paper boy who can fly and puke bullets.
His nemesis - "The Woman" - a woman

If interested, contact my agent, who is me. I'd rather work with Warner Brothers rather than Universal because I like how they handled Harry Potter.

TOYING

Steve "America Needs More" Jobs died a little while ago, which was very sad because he invented many things that make our lives cuter and cooler. I have to admit, he was a pretty interesting man who made billions by working hard and adding colour to stuff, and somehow, post-death, he's gotten even more interesting. Since that dark day we've learned:

- Why he wore turtlenecks all the time (he was imitating some Japanese guy and wanted a personal uniform that he could wear every day)
- Why he never had license plates on his car (he took advantage of a California law which gives a maximum of six months for new vehicles to receive plates; Jobs leased a new identical SL every six months.)
- His last words ("Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow")

The uniform idea is decent because women are known to love a man in uniform, but his uniform looks like it belongs to the Albanian Chess Team, who won gold in the 1978 Autumn Olympics in San Jose, California. I think he could've made it more stylish with a bit of tinkering:

He should have a number on his back too. He looks like a number 10 to me.

Hmm, okay. I don't really understand why he hated license plates so much. Probably because they can't connect to the Internet. Or maybe because there aren't enough characters on a license plate to fit his dream vanity - "SNAKEASSASSIN", which was also his dream nickname, which was also the original name for the first generation iPod prototype.

Those are actually pretty good last words, but I feel like he was planning them for years. It's like when someone asks you if you've ever been to Hawaii and you haven't but you want to look cool, so all you say is "oh wow, oh wow, oh wow". Then again, if he went to all the trouble to plan his last words carefully, he probably would've said something better, such as:

"God is ushering me into his tank"
"I own an alien -- here are its coordinates..."
"I always just peed wherever I wanted, and if that's what brings me to Hell, I'll accept it."
"My last name is actually 'Shitter'."
"I hid millions of dollars in the butts of dogs all over the world. Have at it."
"I forced George Lucas to make all those changes to Star Wars because he once told me my egg salad sucked"

In the coming months I'm sure we'll hear more posthumous factoids about the man TIME magazine called "..this generation's Saruman", but until then, I have some new tidbits that I gained access to by playing around with a Ouija board last name:

The name "Apple" is a nod to the Bible and the part where Jesus makes enough cider for all of Brazil to enjoy.

The first Mac computer was built entirely out of backpacks

Steve Jobs' glasses are edible and taste like licorice all sorts

The Apple logo is an upside down butt with a turd coming out of it, and the bite represents the time Jobs got bit in the hind by a famous tiger

Goin' to the Keg tonight! Wish me steak!

THE LITTLE ENGINE THAT DID

I have an injury.

It's been awhile. So long, in fact, that I can't even remember what my last injury was -- probably last June's questionable haircut. I have so few career injuries, all of them minor, that I'm either UNBREAKABLE or just really cautious. Probably the latter. For example, I head in the opposite direction of every dog bark I hear, I wear a jock strap while babysitting and I pay more attention to expiry dates on food than I do firey babes on street, who, by the way, can also be dangerous depending on how much judo they know. Remember that phrase and film "If Looks Could Kill"? I haven't heard anyone say it in awhile, but I hear they're putting out a sequel to the film called "...I'd Be In Jail".

I sprained my big toe. That's the injury. It happened during a game of co-ed floor hockey, which won't impress any action sports athletes sponsored by Monster Energy Drink, Red Bull Energy Drink and/or Mountain Dew green drink, but it will give me an excuse to get out of anything I want in the next week:

"Hey, wanna go play Monopoly with my dad and his his friends who all have warts?"
"Nah, can't. Sprained my toe."

"Excuse me, do you have time to complete a survey and socks and undies?"
"Sprained my toe."

"I need you bad right now baby, the fire burns within."
"I sprained my toe, but maybe you can send me an email."

If that weren't enough to convince you that I'm the physical equivalent of a young Shirley Temple, I recently bought a tub (calling it a 'tub' adds a touch of much needed manliness. You'll see) of yogurt that looks like this:

I bought ladies yogurt. Look at this shit. It's even called "svelte". Seriously though, since when did women take over yogurt? Last time I checked, yogurt was one of the more manly foods a human could scarf; it's a delicious goo made up of bacteria, which I figure a lot of women find grossatating. But then all of sudden they put this poo bug in it that makes your dumps more regularly-scheduled, and BAM, yogurt's been Oprah'd. All my favourite man brands are extinct:

Bill's Yogurt
Flamethrower Yogurt - The Chunkiest
Heinz Brown Yogurt
The World Wrestling Federation presents Yogurt
Cousin Eli's Old Time Country Style Stiff Milk
Hooters' Restaurant's "Semen in a Barrel" (dine-in only)
Orville Redenbacher Microwavable Yogurt
Burger King Yogurt Whopper with jalapenos and a spicy Regal sauce

Halloween is almost here! The other day this equation came into my head:

Carrots + Halloween = Pumpkins

My mind has been described as "beautiful".

THE DUNKAROOS KANGAROO IS BASED ON A REAL KOALA

October Checklist

√ Feed the rest of the summer corn to the man in the toilet
√ Replace racy mannequin with vulgar scarecrow
√ Dig the monthly hole
√ If we find "it" in the hole, defrost all that pizza dough and call the newspaper
√ don't bother rapping
√ stop calling those bobblehead toys 'dildos'
√ knit something for Christ's sake
√ decide on Halloween costume - either pterodactyl, mouse pad or sexy mule

I'm back from New York, and no, I didn't find Crocodile Dundee's apartment, but yes, I did bury my time capsule in Central Park, and yes the time capsule was a Pearl Jam box set. Seriously though, it was a great trip. Here are today's *sound effect of glass breaking* Quick Points *sound effect of Pat Sajack saying "spin the wheel"*

- Stayed near that building on which King Kong raped that woman
- Went to Brooklyn and decided that I prefer the other Burroughs -Manhattan, Queen and St. Louis - a bit better
- Saw first hand that "Occupy Wall Street" is just a band who won't leave downtown until someone signs them
- Went to 30 Rock, did 10 Bloody Mary's in the mirror of the NBC store and ended up with a free 'Chuck' key chain

And that's pretty much all I did minus the showers walking in between things. This has been *sound effect of jack hammer* Quick Points *sound effect of Jason Mewes saying "Snoogans"*

POSITIVE MESSAGE

When I'm feeling a bit murpy and even pizza tastes less zingy, I usually try to imagine telling my teenage self what I'm up to now, which allows me to appreciate my current stats. For example, on Saturday I got this text:

Bret Hart just told us the funniest story about yokozuna. Amazing.

If the younger version of me knew I'd be getting messages such as this AND over a mobile phone no less, he'd be very satisfied thus convincing present Glenn that everything truly is a-okay.

Wasn't that nice? Time for lunch. I'll probably eat some combination of both plants and animals.