OIL EXECS LOVE FINDING "STUFFED CRUST"

This image fits what you're about to read so perfectly that I don't even care if you read the rest.

Most of the world is hot right now, except those dumb places in the arctic and shit where they don't even have TVs so they don't know what's going on and who's banging who etc. The rest of us are having BBQs in swimming pools and breathing heat and farting lava. This weather is great for playing sports and providing an excuse for dumb haircuts, but I think it's more powerful than that. Here's what I mean:

What happens when you get hot? You get nude and thirsty. The popular belief is that either whales, Bono or aliens will create world peace, but I have a simpler, more refreshing idea - COLD DRINKS.

After most people take a glug from a coldy, they make the noise "aaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" because it feels so damn good lubing up your hotter-than-hell throat. We wouldn't need cold drinks or cough lozenges if God had only blessed us with cool throats. Would our singers improve? Maybe that's why he did it. His favourite song is the one about pasta by Pavaroti, one of our best hot throats. Anyway, have you ever heard of someone murdering someone else while enjoying a cold glass of iced tea? If I walked down the street right now with a wagon full of cold piss I'd sell out in 5 minutes, making enough money to buy myself a drink that isn't piss but then would turn into more piss to sell, ice cold.

Instead of Earth Day lets just have Drink Day. The collective "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh" would be so loud and comforting that dolphins would get nervous.

So yeah, pat me on the back and buy me a Mr. Big for this idea, but don't start praying to me yet. I know how to save the world but I also know how to destroy small parts of it. Yesterday, we left a window open by accident and instead of a cool breeze, the only thing we brought into our house was like, 30 flies. Flies mean two things - buzzing and... flies.

I killed so many damn flies, probably 20 at least. Like, I fucked up a lot flies. All I used was a t-shirt for whipping and a can of air freshener, which makes flies die from smelling good. You know the term "dropping like flies"? I experienced that term yesterday. After I freshened a couple of hard to get butt fuckers, they'd fly around for a bit, probably trying to find a pile of shit to eat before they die, and then they'd just fall out of the sky. I almost felt bad but then I pictured them being larvae and I was like "you're born disgusting then you turn disgusting, shit-eating and annoying. No pity".

This is how I picture my opponents when I play sports or go out looking for tail

BACK IS BLACK

I want to discuss how hot it is outside, but looking back, I've already written extensively on the topic. That's not to say that every hot day is the same, I mean some melt popsicles faster than others, but I don't want you to feel like I have 100 hot day anecdotes filed away in a shoe box mistakenly labelled "Polaroids of boys with silly eyes". The silly eye box actually has my collection of magazine ads with lingerie models who look like Christopher Lloyd, which I keep in case the Internet breaks so I can quench people's thirst for memes and become king of the new world. Are you confused? I hope so. Everything I own is mislabeled in case my worst fear comes true where moving companies take over the world by stealing and moving everyone's stuff to a dog-guarded, cat-encrusted mega warehouse where they'll stage a garage sale that will make them the richest labour force in the modern world, richer than the guys who clean volcanoes . If the unthinkable happens, I'm covered. Good luck categorizing my shit, AMJ Campbell.

Don't worry, I'm not actually going to stop myself from spewing out sentences about myself living in summer. I'm a mature man now. I own two bathing suits. One's for oceans, lakes and chlorine pools and the other is for ponds, rivers and streams. Just joking, they're both for water no matter where it gurgles, except that one is aimed at making blondes melt while the other gets the brunettes weak at the knees. I keep laminated copies of my phone number stashed in each suit's underpant lining just in case I meet a hot slice of Eve down in the depths.

Surprisingly, I haven't heard too many people complain about this latest stretch of heat. You know what would stop people complaining altogether? Palm trees. Palm trees looks like a reggae man's head, produce delicious palm treats (genus - nut, species - coconut) and can be found in Earth's mist acceptable hot ass places. When it's hot outside and I stop to scope out an extra-white birch tree I'm all like "you make me want to hang myself". You see, deciduous trees are just like us - they hate squirrels and they change with the seasons, so when we look at the them it's like we're looking at our frowning selves staring back at us. When you look at a palm tree you see Summer Dude who cringes at sweaters and has never even tasted snow.

Not THE summer dude, but A summer dude

Here's a summer poem written last summer. That means it's "vintage" now and THAT means it's smellier and cheaper but more fashionable than last time.

The Weather this summer

Holy shit it’s been hot
Imagine you were a bear?

Those guys have body beards
And sweat their fair share

Hairy men suffer too
But enough with the gents

Are tits like insulators?
Are vaginas like vents?

Maybe women are like camels
Their humps keep them icy

But hot milk goes sour
Does heat make tits smell not nicey?

Picture a bear with big tits
she’d be in summer hell

Full circle poem huh?
Hot, bear, tits, milk, camels

This one is all wrapped up
So feel the damn heat

And men just remember boys
Chill out your wife’s teats

IT'S A FREE COUNTRY EXCEPT YOU CAN'T EVEN STEAL SHIT

I wrote the following last week, so most of it doesn't even matter anymore. The main character, "the zit" is nothing more than a shell of its former self. Now I have bigger things to worry about like haircuts and beatin' the heat, which doesn't exist in Africa because people are more concerned with lions than sunburns. Only place in the world man, only place.

That being said, I'm not that happy with this story about my latest pimple. I don't think it has enough intrigue and not nearly enough nudity. Judge for yourself lest ye be judged by an intelligent turtle judge whom human criminals love to hate. The location of his house is a secret to protect him and him family (wife's a frog) but most people figure he lives in that mansion in the bayou.

LATEST ZIT (title added after introduction added to separate it from the introduction. If this makes you uncomfortable, simply copy and paste everything under this title and title disclaimer into your favourite word processor or text tool and enjoy)

I got a zit man. It's a big guy. One of those three-headed monstrosities at the usual spot to the right of my nose just above nostril level. When I was a teen I found that whenever I washed my face I seemed to get zits and then I watched this episode of Street Cents and they were like "actually, washing you face can lead to zits" so no wash cloths for me. What most people think is a beard is really 15 years of dirt and other people's hair, so I guess it kind of is a beard.

I'm a lifelong picker. When you got a zit and it gets a big head on it, you have to pick it (or pop it, depends on how you were raised). Despite what doctors tell you, this does get rid of zits. It's a trade-off though. A whitehead is a homing beacon, luring the eyes of your dream babe into the puss zone, and the sooner it's gone the more confident your face will feel. The only problem is that once you pick, the surrounding area turns a deep shade of zitty red. I personally prefer the red to the head, but that's just me.

People get nervous around whiteheads for two reasons -- first, they're a ticking time bomb and seem to say to the world, "I'm about ready to burst, so don't get in my way". Second, they tell everyone around you that you don't know you have a zit as most people eliminate them as quickly as possible. That makes people uncomfortable because they don't know whether to tell you or not. You might as well have a chicken wing on your face.

JUMPING IS FUN WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT IT IN SCIENTIFIC TERMS

Dear Pretzels,

Evolve. You covered yourself in chocolate? Avoid the tricks. We all wear masks to hide our true forms.

Love yourself.

Sincerely,









Thanks to my Honk, my lead researcher for unearthing the above letter for today's edition Cory-spondence. The letter was addressed to a Mr. Uncle Cory, Pretzeldent of Rold Gold Corporation, Mordor, Alabama "Doughville USA". Sender: Unknown.

I like to pick my Cory letters personally, but this week I was too busy rating last week's Sunshine Girls.

I love the human female form so much that I'm not even gay, but I don't really look at Sunshine Girls to get zingy. I prefer to read their profiles, then cross reference their dreams and ambitions against their height, looks and style. I like to think of myself as a talent agency, the Sunshine Girls being my potential clients.

The most common girl is in her early 20's, just over five feet tall, loves the outdoors, dogs, and the Leafs and wants to be an actress/model. Most likely they'll continue to love dogs, the Leafs and the outdoors but most will probably end up being the hottest girl in East Sudbury.

Okay, hold on, I gotta get something off my chest and it's not this great shirt that's just see through enough to prove I have chest hair.

I bought these shoelaces and they keep coming undone. Shoelaces have been around since shoes and shoes have been around almost as long as feet, and in today's world, where flying to outerspace is old news, how in the name of Holy Shit are there still shoelaces that come undone?

If I have to double-knot a shoelace just so it won't come loose, then it seizes to be a shoelace, but rather a peice of reject material that is too ugly to be a Bolo tie and too slippery to be a shoelace. The double knot should only be used as a backup, and is by no means is it a primary knot. High performance athletes use the double knot, knot guys like me whose idea of exercise is wearing a metal watch.

Seriously, do people even test these things? Give me five minutes, a pair of shoes, your brand's laces and a peice of ground and I'll be able to tell you if your laces are fit for sale.

To all the fat cats living off lace money, lighting their their cigars with shoelaces that were lit with money that was lit with a Zippo with a picture of a shoe on it -- I wish nothing but zits for your babies. I wish nothing but interference on your satellite dishes, and nothing but Ringos at your birthday where you demanded your wife get a Beatle perform your favourite Beatles song, which knowing you is probably the widely panned and unreleased "Pinky's Tinky".

FOUL OWL BY THE CREATOR OF DOONESBURY

Marriage doesn't really mean as much as it did back when women needed 24/7 protection from bears and horn dog lumberjacks. I don't feel much pressure to tie the knot because bears are extinct and most lumberjacks are gay.

Plus, who wants to get married? I've seen every episode of Home Improvement and no matter how much marriage advice Tim gained from Wilson, Jill stayed a bitch, Al's wife dies I think and Home Improvement sucks.

I think that was a suitable introduction to this quarter's WIFE NEWS

A 51 year old actor who had minor roles on LOST and The Green Mile, got married to a 16 year old aspiring country singer in Las Vegas. If the guy got a new, younger dick before the wedding it would make this whole thing okay? I wouldn't care if my hypothetical 16 year old son were to marry a 50 year old so long as her vagina wasn't older than 20. Tits don't matter but I doubt a young man would want a pair of old gum drops, you know?

In Indonesia, a group of Muslims have formed an "Obedient Wives Club" where the belief is that wives should cater to their husbands every whim and ensure sexual satisfaction. Around here, we call that "Texas" ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!! I've never even been to Texas. How about, "The first rule of Obedient Wives Club? I don't know, ask my damn wife".

Hugh Hefner's bride-to-be, Crystal Harris, decided she didn't want to marry him after all. He must've kept that old dick of his.

THE LEGEND OF TONE LOC

On the weekend I was enjoying a bike ride down one of this city's many paved roadways, when I saw a guy with a regular digital camera taking a picture down an alleyway up ahead. In the few seconds I had before I reached the alley, my mind quickly formulated the most likely scenarios as to why this man was taking a picture:

Scenario 1: Graffiti

Tourists love taking pictures of graffiti in alleyways because in most other cities in the world, what we call "street art" actually takes the form of skywriting. Germany's "The Red Baron" was actually an artist himself before adding guns to his bird, and gained widespread notoriety with popular air tags such as:

"The ground sucks"
"The Baron is airin'"
"Str8 up Ace"
"Sick of $chnitzel"

Scenario 2: Picturesque Alley


Let's talk this one out:

- A lot of movies feature scenes in alleyways where they're portrayed as dark, seedy and dangerous.
- Movies aren't real.
- Therefore, alleys aren't dark, seedy and dangerous.

It's kind of like how the Elephant Man was portrayed as a freak in that movie, but in real life John Merrick was married to nine different women and was rumored to be the influence for every Hugh Grant character.

Scenario 3: Group Shot in Alley

Webster's defines "alleys" as "the toilet between two buildings" and yet that doesn't stop tourists and narcissists from having their pictures taken within.


If you know anything about top notch storytelling, you'll have realized by now that none of the above scenarios are the correct answer. Rather, when I whisked by I looked down the alley and saw this:

I didn't even have to Photoshop that alley-lookin' industrial background, meaning that perhaps bodybuilding alleyway photo shoots featuring amateur photographers is more common than I had originally thought.

The only difference between the above photo and what I actually saw was that the guy in real life had his pants around his ankles.

YAWNS UNLOCK SECRET ROOMS IN EGYPY

My assistant, Nanny Marie, is currently in Hollywood scoping out the latest trends in tacos and trying to find me a half decent belt. She was enjoying a glass of $300 water at the restaurant in the "H" of the Hollywood sign when she spotted A-Lister Ashton Kutcher having brunch with his talented wife Demi. She texted me the following:

"Ashley Butcher here wif Demo. U wan pic?"

(she knows I collect cell phone pictures of humanity's best)

I responded:

"See if u can steal his shit"

Then, 9 hours later, she sent back:

"Got hiz orginizer wif hiz summa sked. I send it 2 u"

She had it couriered via Porsche's high performance race team, The German Turbos, and I received it a few minutes later. What I'd like to do now is share some of his summer so you'll know what living large is really like.


JUNE

- wash new toes. doc says dirt can disintegrate skin.
- buy iron socks
- on the 15th - hosting all-you-can-buy diamonds at Cartier. Wear diamonds. Read up on diamonds
- on the 26th - shooting a new Nikon commercial $$$$ :) -- remember to have Donny re-insert soul so cameras pick up my image -- remove soul after and put in bacta-chamber along with Demi's old tits

JULY

- hosting July 4th beach party in Malibu - !!! Independence Day!!! (Not christmas, remember?)
- bring bathing suit that can get wet
- Brian said July is luckiest month in the world - bet Nikon cash on July's weather being hot, I think it usually is
- audition on the 11th - Big Ron Howard flick - make sure to have sex with his daughter pre-audition and for god's sake memorize something this time
- PAY MORTGAGE - I guess I still owe that guy money

AUGUST

- Renew SAG membership (poo in an envelope should suffice hahahaha)
- prepare for upcoming 2.5 Men gig - RESEARCH - rent that movie it was based on with Tom Selleck ('Three men and some babies'?)
- Rumer's b-day - maybe she's getting too old for kisses from her old man? buy her some bras I guess
- buy that bird!
- prepare for back to school - hopefully grade 16 will be easier than 15 (there was a crude drawing of a teacher licking an apple)
- renew bowling license

Wow! So interesting. My summer schedule is all "do this do that, eat this, kill that". We can't all be superstars can we? That would make a great epitaph along with a picture of a clown frowning. Do kids even know what clowns are anymore? Is the traditional circus all but extinct? Find out next week on The Big Bang Theory.

GET BUSY LIVIN' OR GET BIZZZAY

The other day I decided to order food from Swiss Chalet, the legendary Canadian rotisserie chicken chain whose Chalet Sauce is so good that even a bulimic wouldn't dare barf it. I decided to order online because when I talk to a real life Chalet representative I get flustered and can't stop complimenting them due to their association with the restaurant the Ottawa Sun mistakenly called "finger lickin' good". Once I told a "Swiss Miss" that her voice sounded like what Chalet Sauce tastes like (tangy, spicy, snotty). While on swisschalet.com I was elated to discover that their "Dip 'n Win" promotion is on, meaning that not only do I get chicken and shit, but also a chance to win fabulous prizes, like a dirt bike that runs on mashed potatoes with a bun for a seat.

Liv was the first to peal her dip sticker and she won some sort of cheese loaf that's available dine-in only. Date night! We'll have two waters, a free loaf, and as many birthday candles as you can muster. Is it my birthday? Life is so beautiful that everyday should be celebrated.


Then it was my turn. I drank all my sauce before peeling as per Swiss law, and won.........!!!.......???....

A free watch battery replacement.

What?

A FREE WATCH BATTERY REPLACEMENT

I'm pretty sure that if I tried just a little bit I could get all my watch batteries for free. All I'd have to do is convince the local time master that I run the score clock at the local rec centre. He'd be so impressed with my dedication to time, that he'd feel obligated. The funny and true thing is that I do get all my watch batteries for free (sort of) -- a while ago I got a battery replaced, paid $20 and now get free watch battery replacements for life thanks to this little card. I think the guy who made up the promotion was about to get fired because when I brought my watch in later on when I needed another new battery, the guy working there looked at my free battery card in puzzlement.


Anyway, this is about as dumb a prize as you can get from a chicken contest. I can understand being excited if I lived in one of those countries where watch batteries cost more than a year's supply of gasoline, but as it happens I live in a country where watches are as common as Lonnie Rashid Lynn, Jr.

I wish I could make fun of the details of this prize, but I threw out the prize sticker in exactly 1.1 seconds, a time I recorded using my fully functioning, far from dying watch.

The moral of the story is to be yourself no matter what your gym teacher sticks in you shorts.

CUTEST GLUE BOY I'VE EVER SNEEZED ON

It's Friday, and you know what that means -- half price appetizers and bottomless milks at Scoopy's and another edition of...

...ISN'T IT STUPID THAT...

Isn't it stupid that JEOPARDY's concept is simpler than even classic card game "Get the Most Diamonds", but because folk have to answer in the form of a question, everyone's all like "Fresh!". I'd much prefer it if they took their big hook more seriously. Here are some real Jeopardy questions:

Q: Bigfoot

A: What is the 80's third best vehicle


Q: Steve Yzerman

A: Who is the world's sexiest man.


Q: Overalls

A: What is the best choice of clothes for someone who hates shirts but has bad nips.


Q: Computers

A: What is in a robot's brain?


The category for all of those would be "A Teenager's Bedroom"

Final Jeopardy:

Q: Scoopy's
A: Who's got the best fried raisins in town while also offering free dominoes?

On Jeopardy you win money, but on Real Jeopardy you get a copy of Scoopy's 2011 Naked Ladies of The Grill calendar, a pretty nice bracelet and any shoes you want.

There you have it, my resumé.

BONUS TRACK

Seven, it's seven o'clock
the hottest time to rock

lyrics and music by Yours Truly


Featuring the smash hit "Baby, Don't Go Down That Hole".

AMERICA'S SKINNIEST BABY

I was at the laundromat the other day, minding my own God-given business, enjoying a good read while the washer cleaned all the pickle stains out of my slacks when I noticed that ALL the dryers were taken. By default, this would make any red-blooded cool dude scream "ah shit" in his head while remaining silent and stoic on the outside, but there was only one other person there doing laundry.

THIS DAMN LADY

took up all 8 or so dryers -- towels (2) in one, what looked like 3 hankerchiefs in another, etc. etc. so I was extra piffed. I can understand the science behind separating colours and dainties during the wash cycle even though I'm a pretty standard "sexies in one machine, corduroy in the another" type of guy, but when it comes to drying, all clothes are created equal. And if you are crazy enough to separate your drying, do it in the comfort of your own laundromat.

Anyway, to end this story, while this huge Latvian(?) woman was out doing something non-laundry related I removed her two towels from a machine that could hold at least fifty towels and half a tux, and loaded my full arsenal in. She didn't care.

THEN an Asian lady dropped some panties right in front of me, and in the instant I realized it was the toughest moral decision in my life: do I pick them up and be the nice guy? Or do I leave them and be the reasonable guy? Obvisously if this lady were a Kathy Ireland type with the breasts of a teenaged Soleil Moon-Frye I would have picked them up immediately and said "The name's Klein. Calvin Klein. I made you these".

Today's garbage day on the Internet. Here's some trash you can sort through before R@s and RAMcoons get at it: