Life of Scott

Imagination unleashed.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Signing Proud

This morning, on my drive into work, I saw a bumper sticker that said "Signing Proud." It had a rainbow colored hand doing some gang sign. What does it mean? This woman is especially proud of gay deaf people? I think the sign language for "gay" is the one where you make a circle with one hand and put your finger into it. Proud of gay gang members? I imagine an inner city gang is not the friendliest place for gays. They would have to start up new gangs -- the Gay Bloods and the Gay Crips. And they'd never get anything done because they are too busy hooking up -- just like Key Club in high school. The only reason any boy joined was to get with the girls who wanted to put volunteer work on their resumes. So "cleaning up the park" turned into "flirting with a garbage bag in your hands." A drive-by shooting turns into circle jerking through the projects. That is NOT something I would be proud of.

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Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Spam Folder: Part 2

Spam messages, like all advertisements (pronounced ad-VER-tiss-mints), cater to your fantasies of what life should be like. How you always wanted it. This batch of spam is no different:


Loving means ramming

I knew I was the man when she stared in amazement the moment I took of my pants.

Your woman will be stunned by your erection

With this your life will be a party full of hot chicks

I decided it would be a fun hobby to buy every single penis enlargement program I could find for sale on the internet and then create my own site telling people what I thought about them all.

Suffering from short peniss?

Please your love mate by 100%. She will like it when you spear her with your new immeasurable rod!

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Monday, March 24, 2008

Spam Folder: Part 1

Joe and I have been skimming our spam folders since spam filters were first invented (2003 maybe?). According to my email, I can add three inches to my penis, sleep with my neighbor's wife AND my neighbor's daughter, get prescription drugs for recreational usage, and buy a genuine Rolex watch for $29.

Some excerpts from my Spam folder:

Be the pride of your family with your legendary pecker.

Let's bet that my penis is bigger than yours.

I peeked at my neighbor's daughter. Don't disappoint her when she sees how small you are.

Last her with a power gun.

Look classy and wealthy with an expensive watch on your wrist.

Hey wake up and smell the coffee its already Thu, 20 Mar 2008 02:57:25 -0800

I do not need this [link], mine's a whopper

Break the monotony of life with a cool new watch.

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Friday, March 21, 2008

Engagery!

Well that settles it. I am officially engaged to be married to the lovely and funny Amanda. As should have been expected, the proposal was neither well-planned nor well-executed.

She was supposed to go to class after work yesterday, so I started driving to her parents' place to ask them for their daughter's hand in marriage. But I got a call from her while on the road, saying that she is skipping class and going home. I am a terrible liar, so I had to admit to being with her folks when she called looking for me (since she was at home and I was inexplicably not).

I sped home after asking the parents and barged into the apartment, but she was on the phone. I hollered, "Get off the phone! Hurry! I have something important to say! WILL YOU BE MY WIFE I WANT TO MARRY YOU AND BE WITH YOU FOREVER!" I even had a ring.

I thought about planning something cute and overly sentimental, but then I got too excited to wait. I figured I could either wait for the next snow, build a snowman with a ring on his stick-hand and write some goofy poem and arrange for rose petals to fall out of the sky. Or I could just barge into the apartment, interrupt her conversation, and holler a proposal at her. When I compared the two options, it was an easy choice.

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Thursday, February 28, 2008

Shower Songs

This morning while brushing my teeth, I heard Amanda singing inside the shower:

I'm a dirty little girl
Just trying to get a nut
I never take a shower
And never clean my butt

I'm a dirty little girl
I do what I like
You should smell my seat
After I ride my bike

Now put it to the tune of Neil Young's "Dirty Old Man" and you have my morning soundtrack.

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Tuesday, February 26, 2008

Humor School

I have been coaching Amanda for some time on what is funny and what is decidedly NOT funny. Who am I to tell her what is funny?, you ask. Well I have no answer for that.

But she thinks it is hilarious to insert wrong words in otherwise familiar phrases. Usually, the words are butt, fart, cockballs, and vagina. Here are some examples.

Scott: Let's go to the Cleveland Museum of Art.
Amanda: More like the Cleveland Museum of Fart!

Scott (in church): Silent night, holy night.
Amanda (after church): Silent fart, holy fart!

Scott: What are you eating?
Amanda: Pee nuts.
Scott: ...
Amanda: With a glass of semen.
Scott: ...
Scott: Cock shit penis ballslut!
Amanda: HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Some of her favorite songs:
Poop Goes the Weasel
Go Tell It on the Butthole
Swing Low, Sweet Vagina

Her favorite foods:
Poopcorn (aka Colonel Poopcorn)
Cocksicles
Ham Wallet and Fromunda Cheese Sandwiches

I try to tell her she cannot just stick a dirty word into a sentence and expect it to be funny, but she cares about as much as you'd expect from someone who just said, "It sure is cold out rear."

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Thursday, February 14, 2008

Home Buying and Roundhouse Kicks

Amanda and I are in the process of purchasing our first home. This is a mix between awful and exciting and fun. Looking at houses and bidding is fun and exciting. But EVERYTHING else is awful. From pre-approval and loan shopping and loan applications and fees and home inspections, pre-paid expenses, taxes, insurance. You would think there would be a guide for first-time home buyers that lists a schedule of when to do each thing and approximate costs for each. But NO! All the guides are just thinly veiled advertisements for some overpriced service. Our realtor has been enormously helpful, but even she cannot provide every piece of information along the way.



So at the completion of this process, I will be writing a comprehensive home buying guide that will be posted to this blog. Stay tuned.



Also, we watched a Chuck Norris movie called "Hellbound" last night. Everyone knows Chuck beats up people with his feet and his beard without ever breaking a sweat or messing up his mullet. But I had no idea he could kick the shit out of the devil himself! This master of evil -- the devil, not Mr. Norris -- could teleport himself and throw people through stone walls, but he was no match for Chuck Norris roundhouse kicks. But I couldn't figure out why in hell the devil was trying to punch a man instead of just killing him with his evil telekinesis or by pulling out his heart with his bare hand (which happened to another man in the movie, but I think the heart was made of rubber because it bounced when the devil threw it at Mr. Norris). I do say "trying" to punch Chuck because not a single punch ever landed. Not even the devil can beat up Chuck Norris! To be completely honest, it was not the devil, but rather his servant named ProstateAnus. It might be spelled differently, but that is sure how it sounded to me.



Spoiler warning. The end features Chuck Norris victorious over all that is evil, thereby saving the entire human race for all of eternity (including the afterlife). For that reason, Detective Shatter (no shit, this is the Norris character's name in the movie) is WAY more awesome than Braddock was in "Missing in Action." In MIA, Chuck merely saved the world from Vietnam. In Hellbound, he saved us all from evil. The end scene has Chuck Norris throwing a spear right through ProstateAnus and ProstateAnus's face turned into a rubber mask with horns on it while his chest turned into fireworks and sparklers and then he exploded into little bits of steak! Sounds like I am making it up and trying to be funny, but it happened. Chuck's little brother Aaron Norris wrote the movie, so he is the one making it up and trying to be funny. I am sure Chuck and Aaron's mother yelled at Chuck, "Charles! Be in your brother's movie! You are always worried about accepting bad scripts and ruining your career, but what about Aaron's career as a writer? You could really help him out so be in his devil movie. Here, I made you both ham sandwiches to eat for lunch."

My rating: 7.8 (out of 10)

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Monday, February 11, 2008

Winter Can Kiss My Ass

Yesterday was the worst day for weather since junior year of college. That was the first year of off-campus housing and a half-hour walk. It was also the year the sidewalks had two inches of ice for the entire winter and I fell on my ass every few days.

But YESTERDAY! Yesterday, the temperature dropped to 3°F and the wind was blowing 50+mph along the lakeshore where I live. The sliding door onto my balcony was installed 30 years ago and hasn't seen a repair since. So it stops cold air about as much as an open window. Without exaggeration, there is a half-inch of snow inside my apartment next to the door. Not melting snow, either. Consistently frozen snow. The whole apartment is about 55°F except for the bedroom. The only reason the bedroom is not so cold is because I encased the through-wall air conditioner in plastic wrap and duct tape. It also stops cold air about as much as an open window. Now it looks like a leftover air conditioner sandwich in all that plastic wrap.

But the real problem with the weather happened while walking to my car. The wind was blowing harder than ever before seen on Earth and the parking lot was covered by a sheet of ice. When we got near my car, the wind gusted and blew us right past the car. With no footholds on the sheet of ice, we blew on by. This is a problem! What if the wind didn't die down? We could have been blown clear into the street and run over by a snow plow. You can get fined for that kind of thing!

My Review: 0.2 (out of 10)

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Friday, February 08, 2008

Softcore Review: Bikini Bistro

Amanda and I recently watched another softcore movie. This one is pefectly titled, "Bikini Bistro." Following closely the plotline of dozens of movies from the 1980's, a failing vegetarian restaurant drums up business by dressing up its waittresses in bikinis in order to stop the sleazy landlord from turning it into a parking lot. Sounds pretty passe, right? WRONG! It is a can't miss formula that combines "The Goonies" with tits.

And if that weren't enough, Marilyn Chambers stars as the adult film director turned restaurant consultant. She starts the movie directing a porno flick and then tells the Bistro owner to stop wearing clothes and her money problems will just disappear! She claims that an 8-table restaurant in the middle of New York City can score enough profits in four days to buy out the space. At NYC retail space prices, that means profiting over $300,000 a night selling carrot souffle. I don't care if your tits are made of crude oil futures and sex, there is no way they are raising $300k in a weekend. There were only six tits in the first place!

Mr. Rank, the menacing landlord, was an extremely well-developed character. The toothpick that was featured in his mouth in every scene really showed how inconsiderate and uncouth he is. Not to mention the plaid sport coat and navy blue pants he wore for 4 days straight. And how he stopped by to check the ladies' progress about three times a day, implying he has very little to do. His plan to turn the Bikini Bistro (the actual name of the restaurant, not just the title of the movie) into a parking lot was flawless. Especially the pan-shots showed it to be located under about 20 stories of office space and connected on all sides to other buildings.

Enter the People's Coalition Against Overstimulation, or whatever they were called. I am pretty sure they were just Mormons because they were very conservatively dressed and hated fun. The skinny man had glassed and neatly parted gelled hair while the fat lady looked like Miss Yvonne from Pee-Wee's Playhouse after gaining 100 pounds. She kept saying awesome protest-words like, "Hey hey, ho ho. Bikini Bistro's got to go." And who could forget, "What do we want? Clothing! Where do we want it? On our waittresses!" While Mr. Rank (the menacing landlord with unfaltering business acumen) was immune to the busty babes' tricks, he was quite taken by the joyless bitch that looked like a 5-foot bowling ball on two enormous hams. As soon as he saw her swathed in that king size duvet-turned-toga, he forgave all the other women's debts.

I think the real treat was Marilyn Chambers. A prominent porn star when she was 20, this movie was made in 1995. That means she was 43 years old and kind of fat. Next to the Mormon woman, she looked like an anorexic, but it still reminded me of those "mature woman" sites. The camera man tried so hard to not show anything lower than her nipples, and even those only when she was holding up those war-torn, leathery sacks with her hands. I imagine that if she didn't use her hands, the boobs would get stepped on by the food critic she was nailing. That reminds me: according to this movie, the food critic's review would help generate sales enough to save the restaurant (which means it would have to be written, edited, published, and read all in the same day in order to make their 4-day deadline. And since they wasted one of those days on a shopping spree montage and about 20 bikini-changing scenes, they only had three days.).

The only way they could find to show tits was when the waitresses were changing into their outfits. And once when the cook made a bet with one to take her top off. It probably should have been called Tits Bistro so the writers didn't have to think so hard to avoid boobless periods longer than 5 minutes.

My Rating: 8.9 (out of 10)

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Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Review: Emmanuelle's Intimate Encounters

Scott: Amanda and I watch softcore porn sometimes.
Everyone: OH MY GOD THAT IS DISGUSTING YOU TWO ARE SO WEIRD WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO.
It's not like that. Calling it porn is misleading. That is like saying you are going out for burgers, when you are really going to the hipster place for veggie patties and alfalfa sprouts. Softcore is just a bunch of terrible unedited scripts where tits fill all the lead roles. The blabbing head above the tits say stupid things like, "we have a failing restaurant, but I have a way to save it," and then the tits take over again with some synthesized music.

I used to watch these movies at sleepovers. Cinemax never let us down. There was the movie where a scientist invented a device that made everyone in its vicinity horny as hell (including a priest at a picnic in one scene). But now we have Netflix so we don't have to wait for the weekend.

Emmanuelle's Intimate Encounters is about a paraplegic woman who wants to experience sex with her husband, so she invents a headband that lets her take over the body of whomever her husband is fucking. This leaves the husband fucking lots of different women while remaining faithful to his wife (can you tell it was written by a man?) And the handicapped lady has big boobs.

Side note: Roger Corman produced the Emmanuelle movies. He also produced Death Race 2000, Carnosaur 3, and Alien Terminator. I've never seen the last one, but judging by the name, I bet it is the best fucking movie ever made. Roger Corman is one of those guys who could have made the garbage that is "Two Weeks Notice" into an awesome movie. He would have killed off Sandra Bullock immediately and made Hugh Grant live in a sewer until he became explosive enough to take down a corrupt police force and nail a thousand women at once. But I digress.


So the handicapped lady has big boobs and thwarts a robbery by controlling the body of the female burglar. I don't know why I expected anything else, but the burglar ended up doing a flashy showtunes-style dance with gloves and a cane, with a rousing finish, naked and nailing her partner. Hooray! The secret stash of horny amulets are safe!

So different people get controlled and Emmanuelle borrows the special body-inhabiting necklace from the handicapped lady, thereby eliminating all joy from her sedentary life. Well my sex necklace is gone. I guess I'll go for a jog down by the-- oh fuck, that's right I'm crippled. I guess I'll just sit here in this chair and cry myself to sleep again.

The biggest moment for me was when Emmanuelle inhabited the piano player's body and played the piano so sensually that everyone in the bar had an orgasm at the same time! There were 8 women and three men and they were all screwing in the bar and no one thought anything of it. They just thought, well, I am about to orgasm, so I might as well take my clothes off to avoid the mess. Hey, she looks like she is about to orgasm, too! Maybe I can just put this here....

Overall Rating: 7.9 (out of 10)

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