JUST SIT THERE

Here's a video I made somewhat recently about video games. It was an opportunity to try out the video camera I got for my birthday, and to finally use one of the songs I made back when I used to mess around and make songs.



It's probably better if you know something about video games. Or not. Maybe people who like video games think it's the dumbest thing ever. I like hockey, but if I saw a guy make a stupid fake show about hockey, I wouldn't necessarily like it. I think this blog needs more pictures though. As Marshall McLuhan once said, "Being visual is better dude. TV is visual right guy? Yeah dude." So I'm now going to run a Google image search for, oh I don't know, "Gerry Peabody" and put up the first image that appears.



Now for a smart caption:

Jerry O'Conell's brother Don celebrates his friend Smooth Jacob's Peabody win outside the Chicago Convention Centre in downtown St.Louis

And that's it! Wrapped up! Ready to go! That's it! Ready to go!

BLUE JAYS GAME

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I ate a sausage on a bun from a street vendor today and I'm paying the price. Currency: DIARRHEA

When I was eating it I KNEW this was going to happen. Question is, was it the bun? The sausage itself? The weird onions I put on? The sweet corn?

I thought I detected mold on the bun but I picked it off and threw it to a sparrow to eat. That sparrow might be dead now for all I know. War is tough brother.

I can remember two times during my childhood when I lost control of my bowels and my bladder. Of course, there were several others, but these two stick out. First a pee story:

I was at a T-Ball tournament and for some reason I pissed my pants. I was a really shy kid and from what I can remember this park didn't have bathrooms, although it did have a forest, which I guess I was too embarrased to use. So I pissed my pants in the middle of the game and I had been called up to an older team so I really didn't want this to get out. Someone asked me why my pants were wet, I had to think fast. There was a guy on the team who was a bit of a joker so I said that he'd been running around spilling Gatorade all over the place and that I was an innocent victim. It worked man.

Now for a poo story

I was at Cub Scout camp and we were all out on a hike around the campground or something. Again, I was too shy and embarassed to say I had to take a dump (even though my dad was a cub leader) so I basically shit my pants. When we got back to our camp, I went into action. I got into my tent, stripped down and put the shitty pants into a garbage bag. My memory is a little foggy at this point because I remember throwing the bag into the woods under the cover of night, but that clearly didn't happen because when we got home and the old man was unloading the car with my sister they found the bag and made fun of me for a long time.

Incidents like this made me so scared that I'd piss/shit myself that every time I'd go somewhere public I'd immediately scan for the nearest bathroom option. I think I still do actually, like at bars and at other people's houses. It's just comforting is all.

That was gross!

The other night I was working on a project and I re-discovered Mad Libs. If you're silly like me, you'll still enjoy them. TRUST GUY. You can find them on the Internet and I recommend taking some time on them and using the word 'boner' a lot. Here's one I just filled out (my words are bolded):

Letter from Ima Wolf

Dear Kids,

I just want to set the record straight for you. Wolves are great animals, and for reasons you may not be aware of, we wolves get a bad rap. Every time someone gets eaten or something is stolen, who gets blamed? Wolves, that's who. Wolves aren't shitty. In fact, we're quite stupid.

I'm a wolf, and I don't steal! I give things away. Every year, I donate boobs to the Fart Retirement Home. And I've never Farted anyone in my life. All I do is dig merrily through the forest. Of course, once in a while, I like to mow a boner. You can't blame me for wanting to have some fun! And, as for eating anyone, that's a fairy tale. All I ever eat are poo berries.

I know how the rumors got started. This kid, I think her name is Little brown fuckinghood, started saying terrible things about me. wow!! She even accused me of shoving her grandmother. That's a lie! Her grandmother is too ugly for me. And as I said, I don?t eat people!

If you ever hear Little brown fuckinghood, or anyone else for that matter, saying something blunt about wolves, please defend me. I need all the help I can get.

Your friend,Ima Wolf


That was okay, right?

Don't judge me.


Tonight, go get some damn ice cream, it's great!

SUNDAY SUMMER SUNDAY GUIDE

In the city I call home, it's been raining for a long time. Today it looks like it'll be real nice for a change, which prompted me to create the Sunday Summer Sunday Guide. You know when you're sitting around and it's nice out and you're looking out the window and you have nothing to do and people are walking by carrying beach balls and picnic baskets and boom boxes and you're like "where are theses idiots going? I should be out there" and then a Jon and Kate Plus 8 marathon comes on, you make a sandwich and next thing you know it's bedtime? This guide will turn you into a beach ball man.

1) BUY SOME FRUIT

Why not get out to your local store and go buy some fruit? Doctors say it's good for you and moms approve. Plus it tastes great! Fruit is generally in season during the summer months, except for apples, which peak on Halloween. Historians say this is because apples have the power to ward off evil spirits, and since Halloween is basically the worst day, filled with demons and sluts and stuff, apples help even things out. That's why every Halloween mothers everywhere put apples under their children's pillow and in all the toilets in the house until December when they take them out and make pies.

2) GET A HAT

The sun is great because without it, the Earth would be an ice planet ruled by wolves that can talk probably. But the sun won't hesitate to remind you that it pays the bills around here and that you can't totally hog it when you're outside. The guardians of the sun invented hats in 1865 and at first all earthlings were forced to wear one until legislation in 1987 made it optional. That was also the year NHL phenom Sydney Crosby was born. Coincidence? Yes. So if you're bored go out and get a new hat and then wear that hat.

3) GO TO THE PARK AND FEEL AWESOME

You could always just go to a popular local park and lie down. People do that. It's better than sitting at home, folding boxes or whatever it is you do with your time. You can bring anything you want to the park, like some snacks or some toys. People respect it when you go to the park. When you go to work on Monday and people ask what you did on Sunday and you say "ahhhhhh went to the park, lied down", the reaction is usually an encouraging "Oh that sounds good". TV gets no respect on a Sunday. "I watched TV all day."

"Oh. That stinks."

That's the reaction up there. To the TV quote.

I'm currently battling with my own Summer Sunday problems. I woke up at 1 pm. Now I either watch TV and get fish and chips a little later or I play street hockey and get fish and chips a little later. Oh boy. Oh crap.

And there we have it, the Sunday Summer Sunday Guide. This guarantees 3 exciting Sundays for you. You owe me for this one. You owe me money for this. Give me money.

A BOAT PULLING A DOGGY

I ran into my friend Robin Williams the other day and this is what he said:

"I'll have the steak with grape sauce, and some water, and then a sandwich, do you have an umbrella, weeeeo oww weeowww, it's raining here!! Does it rain in outerspace or did I just fart? TOOOT TOOOT HAVE some breakfast friend, it's two pesos cha cha cha wing wong wing wong I want a chevy but they're too heavy know what I mean, that's just life friend, gotta sneeze, waaaaazzzzooooooooo uh oh bang bang."

Then he told me that Barack Obama is pen pals with Scarlett Johansson. I usually don't believe Robin because he's a real shithead, but I did some snooping around and realized the story is true:

"Hollywood beauty SCARLETT JOHANSSON has developed a pen pal relationship with Democratic presidential candidate BARACK OBAMA.
The pair has been exchanging regular emails, in which Obama confesses he is a "huge movie lover" and particularly fond of Johansson's performance in Lost in Translation."

Of course he likes Lost in Translation! It's about a mega babe falling in love with a melty old man! All old guys like it! Actually, all guys like it. I like it because I figure if Bill Murray has a chance with her, I, a virile 26 year old, has and even BETTER chance. Normally men would chalk the movie up to being just a male fantasy but it was written and directed by a young woman! It's totally real.

Here's a quote from the girl (Johannsen):

"You'd imagine that someone like the Senator who is constantly travelling and constantly 'on' - how can he return these personal emails? But he does and in his off-time I know he also calls people who have donated the minimum to thank them."

If I was the busiest guy in the world and a rich and famous young babe emailed me, of course I'd get back to her! I hate it when celebrities pretend like they're normal when they're not. If you're reading this Scarlett Johansson, believe me when I tell you that you can have just about any man in the world and just about every man in the world will pay attention to you if you give them the slightest bit of attention yourself. You're probably almost as famous as Obama himself. And I still love you.

Do you think if she wasn't such a hot babe, he would continue these emails? Probably not. Like if Sara Gilbert from Roseanne started emailing him. Here's Obama reading HER email:

"Oh cool, another supportive email and a small donation. Right, yes, interesting, oh that's profound, good idea, great email!. From Sara Gilbert? Have my secretary send her a glossy 8 x 10."

END OF STORY

Now here's a typical Johansson - Obama exhange.

Hi Barack!

Have you heard my new CD? It's soooooo fucking good! I went bra shopping today and got two new ones. Do you buy your wife bras or does she buy them? Good speech last night in Wyoming. I watched the coverage on MTV. Johnny Knoxville did commentary! He's a fucking funny guy. Your suit looked fucking good. I love the red tie. My asked my friend Woody Allen over for pork roast this Sunday. He's so fucking interesting. Just like you. Anyway, gotta run, I'm making fries.

Love Scar


Scarlett,
Your last email was great! You're so great! Listen, we're having a party to celebrate my nomination on Friday at my pad in Chicago. I'd love it if you could make it. I'll pay for your flight and you can stay in the guest suite! I've already sent a gown for you to wear. Even if you can't come you can keep it. I have some money I can give you as well. If I become president you can come to the White House WHENEVER you want. You can have parties there too. On me. And I'll tell you all the secrets I learn. If there's a Yeti, you'll be first to know because you're my girl! I can't wait for your next movie. I watched Lost again last night. Damn your performance was magnificent. And you looked so good too. You're so good. See you Friday?

- Barack

Alright that's all

THOUGHT OF THE 4:05 PM

I haven't heard the word "Bazooka" in a while

A TALE FOR YOU CARL

First off, congratulations to that guy Barack Obama for becoming the mayor of Boston or whatever that was.

You know what I hate about TLC's "What Not To Wear"? They get all these dweebs who can't dress and that's all well and good but they're always really young and successful so I don't really feel that bad for them in the first place. The one I saw today was like, "Check out Mary, a 24 year old TV producer who dresses like she's 14." Up yours (butt)! I'm probably just jealous though. I get jealous all the time. If you're eating chips on the street and I'm hungry for chips, I'll probably hate you, even if you are the coolest man or bustiest girl in town.

Here's a very silly short story I wrote for an Eye Weekly short story contest. I didn't win, but as my dad once told me, "Son, if you enter a short story contest and don't win, just post it on the internet later and maybe someone will read it and you can win their short story contest if they ever have one or they might just say in the comments section, like 'that's pretty good' or something." Thanks papa.


MIRIAM’S ADVENTURE
By Glenn Macaulay

Trace Blitzer drew open the curtains to the big bay window in his 93rd floor condominium just after the digits on his Sanyo alarm clock glowed 7:03.
Miriam had not yet awoke but was stirring in her sleep as if she was having a dream about something scary and strange like spaghetti that can drive and also play video games. Her spectacular new two hundred dollar hairstyle was still intact and looked unnatural on her otherwise unspectacular head.
“Should I wake her?” Trace wondered, as he tied the belt to his black terry-cloth robe tight around his chiseled 30-inch waist.
“Are the waffles on?” asked Miriam with a yawn, startling Trace.
“Can you smell them?” replied Trace.
“Yes! They smell marvelous.”
“Well I didn’t put any on… so I don’t know what you’re smelling,” shot Trace, seemingly annoyed at Miriam’s morning fuzziness.
“Maybe it’s the cat,” Miriam said as she reached to the carpet for her brown turtleneck and basketball shorts, left there the night before so she wouldn’t have to walk to the chest of drawers when the sun reared its funny face.
Of all the tenets of Miriam’s daily routine, getting out of bed had become the most tedious. She much preferred cutting up her lunch-time mango and even administering her cat his requisite cancer medicine to pulling her aunt’s old shirt and her ex-boyfriend’s high school shorts over her self-proclaimed “shitty” body. “Just don’t forget how lucky you are,” she told herself.
Truth was, she often forgot, considering herself living proof of the old adage “you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone”, occasionally yearning for the old days of being an undersexed dweeb. Trace was a hunk and New York City is the place to be, but it just didn’t seem right.
“What are you going to do today baby?” Trace asked, pouring pineapple juice into his faded San Diego Zoo plastic cup.
“I think I might look for a job, grab a burger and maybe rent a movie or something,” Miriam answered.
“I can find three things wrong with that. First, I’m making more than enough money for me, you and that fat assed cat, so for the last time you don’t need a job. Secondly, you shouldn’t eat that shit; it’ll blow your ass up. Why not try a sub for once? I eat them every damn day and you have to admit, I look pretty good and I know you like it that way. Third, I’m watching baseball tonight so you can’t watch a movie, unless it’s about baseball. Why don’t you go to the gym and do some shopping? I passed by a lingerie store the other day and I realized you don’t have any sexy bras, you know, ones with flowers, so maybe you could do that.”
“Yeah okay.”
Trace went back to the mirror and it occurred to Miriam that she should stop agreeing with people. If she hadn’t agreed to go to the Magic Expo at the convention centre two years ago she would have never met Troon. She couldn’t help but reflect on that day:
“I have strange and wonderful powers. Totally serious,” the strange wizard man called Troon said. Miriam thought he looked a lot like a Jedi and decided to carry on with the conversation out of sheer boredom and a secret love of Mark Hamill.
“That’s what everyone here says. It’s a Magic Expo.”
“Then why don’t I prove it to you. Is there anything you desire?”
“Money, a boyfriend and I never want to work again. And I want a cat.”
Following some dopey incantations, Troon said no more and ran off. Miriam stood flabbergasted, and, fed up with the Expo and the dumb wizard, decided to go get a pretzel. When out of nowhere a dashing blonde hunk tapped her on the shoulder holding out a pretzel with mustard on the side and talking to her as if he was her boyfriend, she suddenly had a decidedly different attitude toward Magic Expos and dumb wizards. That was until she learned what several protagonists in stories about wishes had been taught – be careful what you wish for.

Trace had left for the office and Miriam went to grab the pint of ice cream she hid next to the ice cubes made out of beer that Trace kept around in case his boys came over.
“Put them in your beer and it’s like it cools your beer with beer,” he’d say.
But before she could even grab a spoon, the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“This is Troon, how’s your life since I did that spell?”
“Troon?! It’s shitty! My boyfriend is a cock, that cat you gave me is almost dead and eats flowers all day, I’m bored out of my mind and I keep smelling waffles everywhere,” answered Miriam, who would’ve continued on cursing Troon if he hadn’t interrupted.
“You want me to change everything back? No big deal really. I think my point has been made.”
“Point? What the hell? I don’t even know you, what point could you possibly have made?”
“That I’m a cool wizard. I’m pretty much a genie too I guess. Everyone at that Magic Expo was being such a dick and I wanted to prove that I’m… you know…a good magic man. Besides, I thought I was doing you a favour”
“Yeah I guess you’re right. Please change things back to the way they were.”
“No problem. Also, I’m writing an autobiography and I was wondering if I could use your real name in the part about you.”
“Yeah sure.”
“You’ll receive residuals if the book does well.”
“Fine.”
The book went to the top of the charts, and Miriam found herself rich again. This time she married a guy named Duane who edited commercials for a living and who fully supported Miriam’s new job as a cartographer. He was one of those guys that wore corduroy and knew everything there was to know about Joy Division.