June 10, 2013
MOVING DAY
I've decided to write stuff full time at glennmacaulay.com. It's really stupid that I didn't do this a long time ago because I pay for that site while this Blogger platform is as free as oranges at the supermarket. It's very sad because this has been going on for a long time, but really it's not that sad because it doesn't have anything to do with living things. Maybe I'll come back and write something every now and then just so the site doesn't get covered in dust and spiders.
June 7, 2013
THE BASKETBALL IMP
Subtle weekend partying
The clock has struck "Friday" and the weekend has begun. Back in the old days that meant buying cake and wine and going out to find the biggest butts in the burg. Now I'm thirty-one and although I still know how to grease the streets when push comes to shove, I can't rely on my powers of old. This has forced me to come up with some alternative ways of partying when I have the time to actually do so (my old lady is always after me to wash the rice and clean up after the bugs). Here's a quick list of some subtle ways you can party this weekend without all the vomit and tight clothes.
Use conditioner BEFORE shampoo
It feels pretty weird at first but so does snorting gin out of a wooden spoon the first few times you try it. I don't know if it actually makes a difference with regard to the shininess and lustre of your hair but it will make you feel alive before the eggs start frying. Quick note: if you get fond of this move and incorporate it into your daily routine then end up in prison somehow, you might want to stop using it. In the joint, using conditioner before shampoo signals to the other inmates that you're a vegetarian and next thing you know you'll be on garden duty faster than the warden can say "fresh peas?".
Drink coffee from a bowl
What is a mug? Simply a vessel, not unlike a tub, half of a globe, a hole in the ground or a simple bowl. Drinking your morning joey from a bowl will ignite a sense that you probably didn't even know you had - the sense of quaff, meaning to drink down or guzzle. Too often we rely on our sense of sip in the morning, stunting some of the lesser known senses and partying is all about inhibition and the embrace of all senses from the top of the hair to the end of the warts on the toes.
Use a grocery bag filled with clothes as your pillow
If you've already followed the first two tips then you'll be straight knackered by the time Saturday night rolls around. Traditional partiers seek thrills well into the night so we must strive to do the same. Find a regular sized grocery bag and fill it with your most interesting clothes to make a custom pillow that will lull your head into a world of unfamiliarity that will naturally metastasize into a safe version of psychedelia (you'll get tired and toss and turn a lot).
Watch TV wearing headphones
For this move you'll have to find a way to plug a pair of headphones into the audio output of your television. It might prove to be a lot of work but it will be worth it and you'll feel as if you're IN the TV rather than simply hanging around it and eavesdropping on all of its conversations.
Download three new fonts
It doesn't take a hacker to install new fonts, and many don't realize that there are millions of free ones on the Internet to experiment with just as a junkie eats garbage in case something within packs a zing. I'm not talking about run-of-the-mill variations on the ones you've grown sick of, I'm talking about fonts based on some of your favourite logos from film, TV and the handwriting of Kings of old. When I started using the Bladerunner font on all my homemade birthday cards, I received in return some of the best thank yous and pats on the back that I've ever experienced and I once saved an entire town from snakes.
The clock has struck "Friday" and the weekend has begun. Back in the old days that meant buying cake and wine and going out to find the biggest butts in the burg. Now I'm thirty-one and although I still know how to grease the streets when push comes to shove, I can't rely on my powers of old. This has forced me to come up with some alternative ways of partying when I have the time to actually do so (my old lady is always after me to wash the rice and clean up after the bugs). Here's a quick list of some subtle ways you can party this weekend without all the vomit and tight clothes.
 |
| This is the kind of hangover you'll get if you take my advice |
It feels pretty weird at first but so does snorting gin out of a wooden spoon the first few times you try it. I don't know if it actually makes a difference with regard to the shininess and lustre of your hair but it will make you feel alive before the eggs start frying. Quick note: if you get fond of this move and incorporate it into your daily routine then end up in prison somehow, you might want to stop using it. In the joint, using conditioner before shampoo signals to the other inmates that you're a vegetarian and next thing you know you'll be on garden duty faster than the warden can say "fresh peas?".
Drink coffee from a bowl
What is a mug? Simply a vessel, not unlike a tub, half of a globe, a hole in the ground or a simple bowl. Drinking your morning joey from a bowl will ignite a sense that you probably didn't even know you had - the sense of quaff, meaning to drink down or guzzle. Too often we rely on our sense of sip in the morning, stunting some of the lesser known senses and partying is all about inhibition and the embrace of all senses from the top of the hair to the end of the warts on the toes.
Use a grocery bag filled with clothes as your pillow
If you've already followed the first two tips then you'll be straight knackered by the time Saturday night rolls around. Traditional partiers seek thrills well into the night so we must strive to do the same. Find a regular sized grocery bag and fill it with your most interesting clothes to make a custom pillow that will lull your head into a world of unfamiliarity that will naturally metastasize into a safe version of psychedelia (you'll get tired and toss and turn a lot).
Watch TV wearing headphones
For this move you'll have to find a way to plug a pair of headphones into the audio output of your television. It might prove to be a lot of work but it will be worth it and you'll feel as if you're IN the TV rather than simply hanging around it and eavesdropping on all of its conversations.
Download three new fonts
It doesn't take a hacker to install new fonts, and many don't realize that there are millions of free ones on the Internet to experiment with just as a junkie eats garbage in case something within packs a zing. I'm not talking about run-of-the-mill variations on the ones you've grown sick of, I'm talking about fonts based on some of your favourite logos from film, TV and the handwriting of Kings of old. When I started using the Bladerunner font on all my homemade birthday cards, I received in return some of the best thank yous and pats on the back that I've ever experienced and I once saved an entire town from snakes.
JUMP AROUND TOO MUCH AND YOUR BLOOD WILL GET BUBBLY
No more potatoes!
I recently proclaimed to the world that my favourite food is fries. I realized this when I took notice of just how many fries I eat. "Salad or fries?" FRIES. If I'm at a hamburger cafe and I'm not that hungry but I still want a burger, I get fries with it no matter what. I can't live without fries but I'll frequently eat lunch without a drink, much to the chagrin of those around me who feel they need to "water down" their own lives.
So if I eat fries like crazy then why did I write that title? Well, as you may have read yesterday, my stomach has been giving me some heinous guff lately and in trying to discover what's causing it, I realized that I eat potatoes almost every day.
Last week I think I might have had fries every day. I don't even mean to. The thing is, fries have gotten really good around here lately. No one does frozens anymore! If you don't have a fresh cut crispy on your menu then I'm going somewhere else, because sister, they ain't too hard to find. Heck, I could walk downstairs and get some right now (I live above a popular cafe that serves pan-Asian cuisine. And yeah, they got good fries. See?). And don't get me started on breakfast potatoes. Those hold my weekend morning plates together, giving my day a savoury edge that things like yogurt and raisins just can't provide.
Hash browns, mashed potatoes, fries, chips, scalloped potatoes, potato salad, potato latke. That's just me naming potato dishes off the top of my head and in the last three weeks I've had every variety listed except for scalloped, no joke. So I gotta lay off the spuds and see what happens. Holy shit I hope I'm wrong.
Imagine you went to a doctor and you asked it about the mysteries of your stomach trouble and he said "this is probably a case for a detective, not a doctor." I bet Sherlock Holmes would've figured this out a long time ago. Whenever he got sick he'd just look at his butt hole in the mirror and ten minutes later he'd know the cause. Was Sherlock Holmes ever wrong? Was Columbo ever wrong? I'm going to write a story about a detective who always gets it wrong. How will he make up for this? By accidently befriending every suspect and turning them into better people. Actually, that sounds a lot like Inspector Gadget. Now that guy was an idiot. I guess Inspector Clouseau got shit wrong too. Damn, for like, a few minutes there I thought I had a good idea.
Hopefully this passes soon so I can get back to talking about my life as a Formula One champion, but my mind simply isn't on the points race right now. If you went back to Medieval Times and had the choice of bringing and F1 car with infinity gas, but you don't get to wear shoes, or having the best and most comfortable pair of boots and infinity gum, which would you choose? Keep in mind, an F1 car ain't no Jeep. Food for thought. Eat it. Digest it. Breath out some math.
I recently proclaimed to the world that my favourite food is fries. I realized this when I took notice of just how many fries I eat. "Salad or fries?" FRIES. If I'm at a hamburger cafe and I'm not that hungry but I still want a burger, I get fries with it no matter what. I can't live without fries but I'll frequently eat lunch without a drink, much to the chagrin of those around me who feel they need to "water down" their own lives.
 |
| I can see the damn wires |
Last week I think I might have had fries every day. I don't even mean to. The thing is, fries have gotten really good around here lately. No one does frozens anymore! If you don't have a fresh cut crispy on your menu then I'm going somewhere else, because sister, they ain't too hard to find. Heck, I could walk downstairs and get some right now (I live above a popular cafe that serves pan-Asian cuisine. And yeah, they got good fries. See?). And don't get me started on breakfast potatoes. Those hold my weekend morning plates together, giving my day a savoury edge that things like yogurt and raisins just can't provide.
Hash browns, mashed potatoes, fries, chips, scalloped potatoes, potato salad, potato latke. That's just me naming potato dishes off the top of my head and in the last three weeks I've had every variety listed except for scalloped, no joke. So I gotta lay off the spuds and see what happens. Holy shit I hope I'm wrong.
Imagine you went to a doctor and you asked it about the mysteries of your stomach trouble and he said "this is probably a case for a detective, not a doctor." I bet Sherlock Holmes would've figured this out a long time ago. Whenever he got sick he'd just look at his butt hole in the mirror and ten minutes later he'd know the cause. Was Sherlock Holmes ever wrong? Was Columbo ever wrong? I'm going to write a story about a detective who always gets it wrong. How will he make up for this? By accidently befriending every suspect and turning them into better people. Actually, that sounds a lot like Inspector Gadget. Now that guy was an idiot. I guess Inspector Clouseau got shit wrong too. Damn, for like, a few minutes there I thought I had a good idea.
 |
| I reacted the same way as this popular detective when I ate a hot pepper! |
June 5, 2013
DON'T STOP UNTIL THE COW CAN AT LEAST SAY "MAMA"
cereal or eggs?
I don't have to make many big decisions during my day, which suits me just fine. It's not that I don't trust myself to make good decisions, it's that decisions can breed regret, regret can breed anger, and anger can breed diarrhea. I bet if you were to ask every major decision-making world leader about their butt troubles they could write you a book as long as the mighty Credit River and as graphic as the image of a world leader pooing big time. But for me, one big decision comes every day at the onset of breakfast. I'm of the mind that breakfast should be fast and easy, except on weekends when you should take the time to stir up all your favourite batters and culturally approved breakfast meat (pork, sausages, steak, but NO CHICKEN MEAT. Only the egg of the chicken).
For me, a weekday breakfast (hard) boils down to two (percent milk) options: cereal or an egg bagel with cheese. Cereal is obviously the fastest option so if I'm in a pinch I'll pour myself a bowl and crunch it pre-soggies while watching Sports Centre (note that I watch Sports Centre with any kind of breakfast meal on any day). Anyway, an egg bagel is fairly quick to assemble as well, and is far heartier, but involves more dishes and more moving parts.
Time isn't the only factor though. If you've read this blog regularly over the last 10 years (it's probably been around for less time, but I didn't feel like checking, mostly because I don't want to stop the flow here. Have you seen how infrequently I've been writing lately? I gotta strike while the pants are still pressed), you'll know that my stomach feels weird a lot. This means that I must choose carefully my breakfast foods based on how I'm feeling. One big problem is that I don't know what causes my tum tum twuble, so it's really just a vibe kind of thing. Imagine I was lactose intolerant all these years and the cereal milk and bagel cheese has been the silent killer this whole time? Not bloody likely if you ask me. In fact, I don't believe that anyone has a gluten allergy or is lactose intolerant. I think it's all a big propaganda chess game between breakfast (dependent on milk) and dinner (reliant on gluten) interests with lunch constantly telling them "come on guys". You can tell which side your doctor is on by what they diagnose you with. If he or she tells you to relax and drink Gatorade it probably means they're one of the lunch guys.
Today I chose egg bagel because I've on a fairly steady cereal run over the last little while. I'm very proud to say that I rarely buy the sweet stuff, concentrating more on the rices, corns and crisps of the cereal world. I also only buy cereal that's on sale. I'd buy Crispix every damn time if it weren't seven dollars and never on sale. The ONLY reason I can think of is because it's in such high demand that they can charge that much, but whenever I tell people it's my favourite they laugh at me as if I preferred Dunn over Brooks.
BONUS BREAKFAST
Frequently I'll buy the ingredients to makes smoothies. I've definitely talked about these before because I recall renaming them Smooth Cools, so I won't get into too much depth, but here's what I've learned about smoothies:
- They're a good way to get rid of shitty bananas that you wouldn't eat otherwise. You could also make banana bread but I never do because I'm scared the delicious fresh smell will attract robbers.
- The blackberry is the honey dew melon of the berry world, meaning fruit companies and restaurants shove it down your throat because it's probably really cheap. Smoothie-wise they leave too many fat seeds in your drink
- don't blend in a multi-vitamin - you WILL taste it.
- Umm, I thought I'd be able to think of more smoothie tips. You need a blender! Yeah, and a decent sized glass.
That's pretty much it.
Next I'm going to find some pictures to spruce this thing up then I'm going to drink some peppermint tea, but that's a another story altogether....
I don't have to make many big decisions during my day, which suits me just fine. It's not that I don't trust myself to make good decisions, it's that decisions can breed regret, regret can breed anger, and anger can breed diarrhea. I bet if you were to ask every major decision-making world leader about their butt troubles they could write you a book as long as the mighty Credit River and as graphic as the image of a world leader pooing big time. But for me, one big decision comes every day at the onset of breakfast. I'm of the mind that breakfast should be fast and easy, except on weekends when you should take the time to stir up all your favourite batters and culturally approved breakfast meat (pork, sausages, steak, but NO CHICKEN MEAT. Only the egg of the chicken).
 |
| It's singing a Busta Rhymes song |
For me, a weekday breakfast (hard) boils down to two (percent milk) options: cereal or an egg bagel with cheese. Cereal is obviously the fastest option so if I'm in a pinch I'll pour myself a bowl and crunch it pre-soggies while watching Sports Centre (note that I watch Sports Centre with any kind of breakfast meal on any day). Anyway, an egg bagel is fairly quick to assemble as well, and is far heartier, but involves more dishes and more moving parts.
Time isn't the only factor though. If you've read this blog regularly over the last 10 years (it's probably been around for less time, but I didn't feel like checking, mostly because I don't want to stop the flow here. Have you seen how infrequently I've been writing lately? I gotta strike while the pants are still pressed), you'll know that my stomach feels weird a lot. This means that I must choose carefully my breakfast foods based on how I'm feeling. One big problem is that I don't know what causes my tum tum twuble, so it's really just a vibe kind of thing. Imagine I was lactose intolerant all these years and the cereal milk and bagel cheese has been the silent killer this whole time? Not bloody likely if you ask me. In fact, I don't believe that anyone has a gluten allergy or is lactose intolerant. I think it's all a big propaganda chess game between breakfast (dependent on milk) and dinner (reliant on gluten) interests with lunch constantly telling them "come on guys". You can tell which side your doctor is on by what they diagnose you with. If he or she tells you to relax and drink Gatorade it probably means they're one of the lunch guys.
Today I chose egg bagel because I've on a fairly steady cereal run over the last little while. I'm very proud to say that I rarely buy the sweet stuff, concentrating more on the rices, corns and crisps of the cereal world. I also only buy cereal that's on sale. I'd buy Crispix every damn time if it weren't seven dollars and never on sale. The ONLY reason I can think of is because it's in such high demand that they can charge that much, but whenever I tell people it's my favourite they laugh at me as if I preferred Dunn over Brooks.
 |
| God creates man, man creates this |
BONUS BREAKFAST
Frequently I'll buy the ingredients to makes smoothies. I've definitely talked about these before because I recall renaming them Smooth Cools, so I won't get into too much depth, but here's what I've learned about smoothies:
- They're a good way to get rid of shitty bananas that you wouldn't eat otherwise. You could also make banana bread but I never do because I'm scared the delicious fresh smell will attract robbers.
- The blackberry is the honey dew melon of the berry world, meaning fruit companies and restaurants shove it down your throat because it's probably really cheap. Smoothie-wise they leave too many fat seeds in your drink
- don't blend in a multi-vitamin - you WILL taste it.
- Umm, I thought I'd be able to think of more smoothie tips. You need a blender! Yeah, and a decent sized glass.
That's pretty much it.
Next I'm going to find some pictures to spruce this thing up then I'm going to drink some peppermint tea, but that's a another story altogether....
May 27, 2013
RIG THAT DYNAMITE SO IT GOES OFF WHEN HER BUM IS ONSCREEN
What's in Dan's trunk?
I borrowed Dan's car the other day because there were some great sales on canned goods at the grocery store. Canned goods are almost perfect -- non-perishable, inexpensive, convenient. But like anything in life, they have at least one fault, in this case, weight. I'd usually walk or ride my bike to the store, using my backpack to carry everything back home to the mothership but cans are much too heavy. My doctor said that if I lift just one more box of bibles I'll need a new back faster than the Internet that the Flash invented after he decided that running around is boooooring. Plus, it's winter and I don't need to be freezing anymore than Barack Obama needs a reliable, day-to-day underpant.
I was in the store, happy as a pig in Rome. I went to the soup aisle first because I knew that I'd go buckwild, and sure enough, five minutes in I have an assortment of condensed delights as well as some of Chef Boyardee's finest and 4 of those hearty classics, un-condensed. I'm a variety man so I got one of each -- Chicken Barley Disaster with Oat Slivers, Beef and Kidney Utah-Style, Vegetable Neighbour - Fat and Vitamin Free and the one I'm looking most forward to, Lettuce and Cheese Limited Edition with Chew.
I figured I wouldn't be able to afford much more so I had to decide what my final cans would be. Originally I wanted to do fruit over vegetables because I love how they take the skin off my favourites, but in a split-second decision guided by my taste buds and the voice of my dad telling me "anything brown tastes good", I double downed on canned gravies.
At the check-out the clerk asked me if I was planning on donating any of my loot to a Holiday food drive that was in full swing. The guy caught me off-guard and since my mind was on soup and soup only, I blurted out "I borrowed a car for these, no". He wasn't as friendly after that and I swear he held my change in his palm extra long and tight just to clam it up for me. The bag boy was a different breed altogether. His sloppy right eye winked at me, then his extra-long head nodded toward a semi-attractive middle-aged woman who was paying for a bundle of organic carrots and a tube of mascara. I didn't know what he was referencing so I tossed him a quarter and told him to "learn Italian, kid". I always like to confuse those who I feel are attempting to confuse me.
At this point you probably want to know what was in Dan's trunk. I don't know! I couldn't get the damn thing open. I had to put the cans in the backseat alongside some jumper cables and a baby seat Dan uses when he's trying to impress the cheerleader who works the drive-thru. All I know is that I spent 3 hours in the parking lot trying to get the trunk open. During that extensive time period I discovered the following about what might be inside the trunk:
1) It smelled like my grandma's old bathroom in and around the trunk. The scent is a mixture of a room deodorizer that smells of spring flowers, 2000 Flushes Blue Plus Bleach and this medicine she had that kind of smelled like swordfish on the BBQ. To make sure I wasn't crazy, I smelled everything in the vicinity. The shopping cart coral smelled like oil and vinegar, but only because someone had spilled a bottle of dressing. It was fairly fresh as I saw no crows.
2) Whatever was in there was big because the rear part of the car was riding fairly low. This piece of evidence I cannot fully trust as Dan has had trouble with his shocks and struts before, which is a result of him storing bricks of silver in the backseat during that strange period in Dan's life when he believed in the healing powers of precious metals. I'm generally a skeptic but his fingernails were a lot clearer back in those days.
3) There wasn't any sound coming out of the trunk but when I was driving to the store and turned up my 48th Highlanders Pipes and Drums casette tape I thought I heard myself run over a duck. I pulled over quickly to check things out but there was no duck. There wasn't even a rat. The road was clear. I know this sounds like something out of a horror movie about a murderer who hides in cars, but I think the sound came from within the car.
You're probably wondering why I don't just ask Dan what's in the trunk. Here's the thing: when I went to drop the car off, Dan was very excited and told me that his short film had been accepted into Cannes. I didn't want to create a strange atmosphere that might damper his good news so I shut my trap and we drank mimosas with him and his family.
Dan is at Cannes as we speak and he lent me his car for the entire two weeks. I still haven't got the trunk open but I did score a date with the cheerleader from the drive-thru after she saw how much soup I got. I'll keep you updated but I think this is one of those mysteries that will remain unsolved.
I borrowed Dan's car the other day because there were some great sales on canned goods at the grocery store. Canned goods are almost perfect -- non-perishable, inexpensive, convenient. But like anything in life, they have at least one fault, in this case, weight. I'd usually walk or ride my bike to the store, using my backpack to carry everything back home to the mothership but cans are much too heavy. My doctor said that if I lift just one more box of bibles I'll need a new back faster than the Internet that the Flash invented after he decided that running around is boooooring. Plus, it's winter and I don't need to be freezing anymore than Barack Obama needs a reliable, day-to-day underpant.
I was in the store, happy as a pig in Rome. I went to the soup aisle first because I knew that I'd go buckwild, and sure enough, five minutes in I have an assortment of condensed delights as well as some of Chef Boyardee's finest and 4 of those hearty classics, un-condensed. I'm a variety man so I got one of each -- Chicken Barley Disaster with Oat Slivers, Beef and Kidney Utah-Style, Vegetable Neighbour - Fat and Vitamin Free and the one I'm looking most forward to, Lettuce and Cheese Limited Edition with Chew.
I figured I wouldn't be able to afford much more so I had to decide what my final cans would be. Originally I wanted to do fruit over vegetables because I love how they take the skin off my favourites, but in a split-second decision guided by my taste buds and the voice of my dad telling me "anything brown tastes good", I double downed on canned gravies.
At the check-out the clerk asked me if I was planning on donating any of my loot to a Holiday food drive that was in full swing. The guy caught me off-guard and since my mind was on soup and soup only, I blurted out "I borrowed a car for these, no". He wasn't as friendly after that and I swear he held my change in his palm extra long and tight just to clam it up for me. The bag boy was a different breed altogether. His sloppy right eye winked at me, then his extra-long head nodded toward a semi-attractive middle-aged woman who was paying for a bundle of organic carrots and a tube of mascara. I didn't know what he was referencing so I tossed him a quarter and told him to "learn Italian, kid". I always like to confuse those who I feel are attempting to confuse me.
At this point you probably want to know what was in Dan's trunk. I don't know! I couldn't get the damn thing open. I had to put the cans in the backseat alongside some jumper cables and a baby seat Dan uses when he's trying to impress the cheerleader who works the drive-thru. All I know is that I spent 3 hours in the parking lot trying to get the trunk open. During that extensive time period I discovered the following about what might be inside the trunk:
1) It smelled like my grandma's old bathroom in and around the trunk. The scent is a mixture of a room deodorizer that smells of spring flowers, 2000 Flushes Blue Plus Bleach and this medicine she had that kind of smelled like swordfish on the BBQ. To make sure I wasn't crazy, I smelled everything in the vicinity. The shopping cart coral smelled like oil and vinegar, but only because someone had spilled a bottle of dressing. It was fairly fresh as I saw no crows.
2) Whatever was in there was big because the rear part of the car was riding fairly low. This piece of evidence I cannot fully trust as Dan has had trouble with his shocks and struts before, which is a result of him storing bricks of silver in the backseat during that strange period in Dan's life when he believed in the healing powers of precious metals. I'm generally a skeptic but his fingernails were a lot clearer back in those days.
3) There wasn't any sound coming out of the trunk but when I was driving to the store and turned up my 48th Highlanders Pipes and Drums casette tape I thought I heard myself run over a duck. I pulled over quickly to check things out but there was no duck. There wasn't even a rat. The road was clear. I know this sounds like something out of a horror movie about a murderer who hides in cars, but I think the sound came from within the car.
You're probably wondering why I don't just ask Dan what's in the trunk. Here's the thing: when I went to drop the car off, Dan was very excited and told me that his short film had been accepted into Cannes. I didn't want to create a strange atmosphere that might damper his good news so I shut my trap and we drank mimosas with him and his family.
Dan is at Cannes as we speak and he lent me his car for the entire two weeks. I still haven't got the trunk open but I did score a date with the cheerleader from the drive-thru after she saw how much soup I got. I'll keep you updated but I think this is one of those mysteries that will remain unsolved.
April 11, 2013
PRETEND GORD
I just turned 31 years old! I wonder how many pickles I've eaten? Who cares, do it for the love of the game.
As you might be able to tell, and you probably can't because let's face it, this thing is no foodtv.com, I haven't been an active blogger lately. There are many reasons for this, none of which I'll disclose, so use your imagination and try to include a scene of me rescuing a foxy princess from a sand beast in a post-apocalyptic desert world where the only currency is fists.
I just got a new job, a new wife in September, a new bed and I've been into mustard lately, so I feel like it's almost time to turn the page on this blog. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop punching out hit after hit, it just means I'm going to do it elsewhere, probably glennmacaulay.com. Stay tuned for an official announcement. I wanted to prepare you and your browser for a potentially stressful re-work or your bookmarks/favourites bar/menu/tab.
While I still have the keys to the old girl, why not take her out on the water and run over some whales? It's time to check the headlines of the Bonkersville news. Here we go!
EXTRA EXTRA
APRIL SHOWERS BRING GAY POWERS
If there are any big advancements in gay rights this month then I just made a million dollars by copywriting the best possible headline a right wing tabloid rag could ever use. If you're a journalist and have found this page by Gooing the headline to make sure no one else has thought of it, then please email me your deets and we'll figure out how you can get me my money. And if you prefer to pay by autographs, keep in mind I collect those of famous puppeteers. It's called business and it was perfected by the Ancient Greeks who would sell dirt to poor people at sword-point while chewing a gum made of olives and clay.
EXTRA EXTRA
I NEED CALLUSES
My last round of calluses were so perfect. I got them by rubbing my fingertips over a piece of sandpaper pinned to the inside of jeans. Co-workers figured I was either searching for change or "makin' sure my dick is still there" if you know what I mean. There's nothting more satisfying than getting a callus and not working for it. It's the get rich quick scheme of manual labour, or something like that. Because I haven't been shredding my guitar as much and because my wife told me "no more sandpaper until you finish making me perfume", I've totally lost my calluses and need new ones. I'm thinking of finding a different guy who has good calluses and somehow finding a way to give him smooth low five after smooth low five. I didn't know how to properly describe the move, but it's the one where you slide your hand over the other person's.
EXTRA EXTRA
MICROWAVES
I bet that when microwaves first came out kids would remove their warmed feed and claim to mommy that they could see it glowing what with the radiation and all.
"Mommy, mommy, my potato is glowing from the mycowave!"
"Maybe we should put out Christmas tree in there and then we wouldn't have to buy lights"
"I'm having a hard time keeping track of all your bullshit, mom"
Three great headlines, three great stories, one reasonable man. The other night I was trying to think of a new Twitter About Me section, one that's not supposed to be stupid, and I came up with:
"I never want to give anyone the right to be mad at me"
That sums me up better than 4 sums up 2 and another 2. After I was scared that I mentally stole it from someone, but I don't think I did. It's simple, effective, organic and local.
EXTRA EXTRA
MICROWAVES
I bet that when microwaves first came out kids would remove their warmed feed and claim to mommy that they could see it glowing what with the radiation and all.
"Mommy, mommy, my potato is glowing from the mycowave!"
"Maybe we should put out Christmas tree in there and then we wouldn't have to buy lights"
"I'm having a hard time keeping track of all your bullshit, mom"
Three great headlines, three great stories, one reasonable man. The other night I was trying to think of a new Twitter About Me section, one that's not supposed to be stupid, and I came up with:
"I never want to give anyone the right to be mad at me"
That sums me up better than 4 sums up 2 and another 2. After I was scared that I mentally stole it from someone, but I don't think I did. It's simple, effective, organic and local.
March 20, 2013
DON'T BOTHER WITH THE LIPS, CONCENTRATE ON EMPHASIZING THE NECK
CAPTION CONTEST
My intern, Jeremy, intercepted a bunch of hot new images off the photo wire so you know what that means -- caption contest and a roast duck dinner! You're not invited for duck, but you can try to beat my captions. If you successfully beat any of them, you can have Jeremy and his really good headphones that he won't let anyone else wear because he's too scared they'll stretch. He's got a small head.
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| The third Garfield with the original Dave |
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| Future surfer! |
 | |||
| The problem the real Will Hunting solved |
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| The government should be concerned that this is for aliens |
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| Every boy's dream! |
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| "I shouldn't have eaten meatballs before the photo shoot" |
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| Not possible pre-1999 |
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| TIME Magazine |
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| Do NOT drink and drive |
February 22, 2013
THAT BELL WAS ONE DONG AWAY FROM RETIREMENT
Garbage Day - Celebrity Edition
Friday is garbage day around here and today I have three big stinkers headed straight for the heap.
Here's what I'm throwing out this week:
The name "Lance"
I consider the name "Lance" to be a cousin of the name, "Glenn", except that while "Lance" was invented by mere mortals, "Glenn" was forged in the fires of Mount Dude by a surfer named The Sorcerer. Each rose to prominence during the seventies and eighties and both pretty much mean "laser man". Unfortunately, as each new age dawns, both these names have been largely forgotten by new mums and dums, opting for modern names like "Tire" instead. I think it's time we put the name "Lance" out of its misery. It was having trouble already, but then Lance Armstrong went and lied to everyone about using potions to help him win tours of France. I can't imagine too many parents wanting to name their baby boy after our generation's Grinch Who Stole Christmas. And even if someone were tempted to dub their child Lance because they find him an inspiratational sex machine who did nothing wrong, the kid will forever be teased with insults like:
Hey Tour de Lance -- eat shit.
You're named after an old guy who stunk
Fuck you, Lance.
Kurt Cobain's Birthday Present
The old sponge of grunge would've turned 46 this week if it wasn't for a certain sponge of grunge named Kurt Cobain. I went to Wal-Mart to get him a gift like I do every year, this time going with some cologne and a package of Nibs, but on my way home I couldn't find a dog to pretend was him so I threw it all out. It was for the best though. When I got home and logged onto the Internet I realized that the whole thing was blown way out of proportion and that celebrating a dead man's birthday is like celebrating a stegosaurus' wedding. In unrelated news, I've been selling off-season candy canes to a Christmas fan club and things are going great for me.
My Oscar Pistorius Sponsorship
I sponsored the Olympic Athlete/Girlfriend Slayer during the London games and in return he promoted my line of shoe horns that had shoe jokes printed on them. You may remember our famous print ad that featured Pistorius wearing two big versions of our horns as legs and a thought bubble saying "Now if only I could find a woman who has a shoe for a mouth". No one really understood it and we fired our copywriter. But the hype generated by the confusion was enough to push fourth quarter sales into the dillions, which is just a fancy industry term for five hundred bucks each. Now that the "Bladerunner" is on trial for murder, we decided to throw away his sponsorship, opting instead for a guy with a nickname from a better movie. We went with this stuntman named "Jurassic Park" who has this neat talent of being able to eat sap. If he ever encounters sap with bugs in it he cries, "DNA!" and the crowd goes nuts.
February 1, 2013
A HOTEL WHERE ALL THE ROOMS ARE UNDER THE STAIRS
Before we
get into the meat of February and I start waxing poetic on the socioeconomic implications of "Family Day" and how the Polish government has
just as much to do with Leap Years as the cosmos themselves, let's talk
some pop culture.
POP WATCH: FEBRUARY
NBC Comedies
Last night was the series finale of 30 Rock, a cornerstone in NBC's "rock" solid, soon to be dismantled Thursday night comedy lineup. I'm still 2 episodes behind so I can't really talk about what happened, but if I've been correctly deciphering the clues spread throughout the series, Liz Lemon and Jack Donaghy will die at the end after having sex at Yankee Stadium and Tracy Jordan will become a chef. The show is to be replaced by a new reality competition show called 30 Ricks where 30 guys named Rick fight tooth and nail to earn the title of Ultimate Rick. What makes the Ultimate Rick?
- Steve McQueen knowledge
- has a Halloween costume of a Bruce Willis character (bonus points for baby from Look Who's Talking)
- Braveheart tattoo
- can open a beer using yarn
While 30 Rock ends, Community re-begins next week after an extended hiatus. Will its small yet loyal legion of diehard fans continue to tune in while their boring neighbours stick with NCIS and a regular, pedestrian meatloaf WITHOUT chipotle peppers? Probably. Will the show remain as wacky and lovable without former showrunner/creator Dan Harmon and the classic comedy of Chevy Chase? I don't know! We'll find out, be patient. In the meantime, watch Summer School, one of my favourite movies of all time and another representation of life in a school that doesn't seem very real. I mean, Mark Harmon as a high school teacher? Kirstie Alley falling in love with Mark Harmon? NCIS, Dan Harmon, Mark Harmon. This post has HARMON-Y.
Meanwhile, Parks and Recreation remains the perfect show and the Office continues its march toward extinction. Did you see last night's double feature? The whole thing feels a bit weird.
The Oscars
On February 24 Hollywood's slimmest congregate for the 85th annual Academy Awards. Ben Affleck's Argo has been picking up a lot of steam lately, winning Best Picture (drama) at the Golden Globes, as well as Best Picture wins at the AFI, Critic's Choice, and Charlie's Basement Revue awards. The Canadian Football league also bestowed an honorary "Best Thing Named After One of Our Things" award at their annual banquet held at Buff's Ribs 'n Eggs in downtown Hamilton, Ontario.
Super Bowl
The Super Bowl gets thrown into the kiln of America this Sunday, pitting the San Francisco 49ers against Baltimore's Ravens. My favourite Super Bowl was during my stint in University. A friend managed to steal a garbage bag full of wings from a restaurant he worked for, and another guy took an entire case of salsa from the grocery store he worked at. We had a lot of leftover salsa. For all you gambling types, I'd put all my money on Beyonce being simply radiant!
Star Wars
Speculation over who will helm Disney's first Star Wars adventure was put to rest this week when it was announced Jason Jason (JJ) Abrams will put his ass on the line. It doesn't really have much to do with February but I'll be thinking of it on Valentine's Day when I try to force my wife to watch the most romantic movie of all time, The Empire Strikes Back. She will of course refuse, we'll order Swiss Chalet and she'll make me put on my sexiest outfit, which luckily for me is also my pajamas. We're soooooo cute.
January 24, 2013
THE LION SLEEPS TONIGHT LIKE EVERY OTHER NIGHT
It's currently really cold outside where I live. To my Fijian fans, you probably imagine my Toronto life to be shrouded in ice and snow, but that's not the case. You ever been to Cleveland? It's like that -- four seasons, and a baseball team. Normally I'd have no problem hiding away in my warm cave and wearing layer upon layer of micro fleece, building enough heat to bake a potato in my pocket, but I feel guilty. You see recently I watched a CBC documentary that tried to tell me we Canadians are losing our fondness for winter. It showed images of whiny urban Canadians wrapped up and fleeing to our underground shopping malls. They then contrasted this with Russians taking bikini dips in frozen rivers and Swiss flaneurs sipping $300 hot chocolate surrounded by the most beautiful mountains this side of JRR Tolkien's imagination.
I think that Canadians still love winter but those of us who live in cities have the right to complain. If I had ponds, rivers and mountains (the holy trinity of winter scenes) in my backyard I'd be out there with a St. Bernard, an easel and some cross country skis (the holy trinity of winter gear). The documentary made no mention of salt and brown snow, the unnatural remnants of an urban winter. When I was walking to work today I thought to myself, "the road is so salty right now that if a giant came to town he'd eat the road as chips". How are we supposed to enjoy this season with dark thoughts such as those? And brown snow? Shit doesn't even exist in the picturesque, rural areas of our world and yet it makes up 90% of our urban piles.
I knew this guy from Hawaii who had never experienced winter, and the first time it snowed I invited him out to eat some flakes and pee in some drifts, but we were too late, it had already turned brown. He said to me "it looks like our volcanoes" then when my back was turned he tried some of the brown stuff, contracted a type flu that made his toes bleed and was picking pebbles out of his chompers for two weeks. I asked him if Hawaiian furnaces run on lava and he said, "we have no need for furnaces", I blushed, then he said "our air conditioners run on flapping birds" and I answered "yippeeeee!".
The Importance of Your Own Body During the Chilly Ones
Having lived in a home that does not heat up well, I know all about the relationship between our bodies and God's body (weather). This most important factor is core temperature, or the body's ability to accept and retain warmth. Before I go on, is this a myth or are you going to stop reading because it's a scientific fact? I remember Kramer talking about it on Seinfeld when he fell asleep in a hot tub. That show is not real so I'm skeptical. Anyway, after I play hockey (indoors, safe environment) my inner furnace is burning. It's like that part in Back to the Future 3 when Doc puts those super logs in the steam train. When I return home to my ice palace, my wife is surrounded by furs hot stones while I'm able to sit around nude with flaccid nips and a Popsicle.
Anyway, the winter is fine by me even though it dries me up like a grape in Chad, and I spend most of it wishing I could gain weight for once. Join me next weekend at the Snow Flake Jamboree where I'll be running a hot cider booth. Here's a little secret -- I'm not even serving cider but rather some muddy water steeped in sour candy. 9 out of 10 husbands can't tell the difference.
I think that Canadians still love winter but those of us who live in cities have the right to complain. If I had ponds, rivers and mountains (the holy trinity of winter scenes) in my backyard I'd be out there with a St. Bernard, an easel and some cross country skis (the holy trinity of winter gear). The documentary made no mention of salt and brown snow, the unnatural remnants of an urban winter. When I was walking to work today I thought to myself, "the road is so salty right now that if a giant came to town he'd eat the road as chips". How are we supposed to enjoy this season with dark thoughts such as those? And brown snow? Shit doesn't even exist in the picturesque, rural areas of our world and yet it makes up 90% of our urban piles.
I knew this guy from Hawaii who had never experienced winter, and the first time it snowed I invited him out to eat some flakes and pee in some drifts, but we were too late, it had already turned brown. He said to me "it looks like our volcanoes" then when my back was turned he tried some of the brown stuff, contracted a type flu that made his toes bleed and was picking pebbles out of his chompers for two weeks. I asked him if Hawaiian furnaces run on lava and he said, "we have no need for furnaces", I blushed, then he said "our air conditioners run on flapping birds" and I answered "yippeeeee!".
The Importance of Your Own Body During the Chilly Ones
Having lived in a home that does not heat up well, I know all about the relationship between our bodies and God's body (weather). This most important factor is core temperature, or the body's ability to accept and retain warmth. Before I go on, is this a myth or are you going to stop reading because it's a scientific fact? I remember Kramer talking about it on Seinfeld when he fell asleep in a hot tub. That show is not real so I'm skeptical. Anyway, after I play hockey (indoors, safe environment) my inner furnace is burning. It's like that part in Back to the Future 3 when Doc puts those super logs in the steam train. When I return home to my ice palace, my wife is surrounded by furs hot stones while I'm able to sit around nude with flaccid nips and a Popsicle.
Anyway, the winter is fine by me even though it dries me up like a grape in Chad, and I spend most of it wishing I could gain weight for once. Join me next weekend at the Snow Flake Jamboree where I'll be running a hot cider booth. Here's a little secret -- I'm not even serving cider but rather some muddy water steeped in sour candy. 9 out of 10 husbands can't tell the difference.
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